Crimson and Amber
by TinaVonRotter
Summary: "I don't understand this witchery you've created nor do I understand what's it doing to us, but there's one thing I'm certain of … I want you." A prequel to the story of Resident Evil 5/ the actual story of Resident Evil 5 AND a prequel to Resident Evil 5. But all from the side of Albert Wesker. HELL YEAH!
1. Prologue - Darkness and Despair

**Chapter 1 - Darkness and Despair (Epilogue)**

**Dear readers!**

Thanks a lot for taking your time to read my Fanfiction story - a story that is going to focus on Albert Wesker and the creation of Uroboros.

IMPORTANT: To those who have already read my story: Yes, I've deleted almost all chapters as I wasn't content with them anymore. My writing style has improved (not saying that it's perfect ... but still it has improved). Therefore, I wanted to make the 'introduction' a bit shorter and dive right into the creation of Uroboros as quick as possible (or at least get to the chapters that are better written haha). I've put pretty much everything in the first chapter as kind of a diary written by my OC. It summarizes the first seven chapters.

The first part is going to be written from the view of my OC Nebraska Jones (1st person, past tense).

Then, from Chapter 2 on it will be written in 3rd person and in present. Confusing, you might think? Well, maybe yes ... but I have my reasons why I made it like that.

Well, with that out of the way, I'd say, let's dive right in ... :)

**The story is rated M for obvious reasons (swear words and descriptive sex.)**

* * *

_**I'm not here**_

_**This isn't happening.**_

_Radiohead, How To Disappear Completely, Kid A_

* * *

_It has never mattered, that those people I have trusted the most have betrayed me._

_It has never mattered, that everything I have ever lived for has been taken away from me._

_It has never mattered that my possessions and my body have been disdained._

_My name is Nebraska Jones. And what mattered the most is the fog of unbearable and killing love I am trapped in._

* * *

**Diary of Nebraska Jones**

**15th of September 2008**

Do you know what it feels like when you've been lying on the cold ground for so long that there is nothing but shivers running your body? I did. I couldn't tell how long I'd been trapped inside this facility. There was no daylight nor a night sky visible for me to tell how many days had passed since I got dragged here. My stomach revolted, when I thought back to the last day I went to work and got ordered inside my boss' office. Fucking traitor. I still remembered the chemical smell of a cleaning essence itching my nostrils as I entered his room – probably the carpet had been cleaned over the weekend. Harmless thoughts – until he told me how he sold me to another company.

Umbrella …

According to him it opened a new path for my career and I should be thankful for that. His words were nothing but sickening, his toad-like face disgusted me. I wanted to run out of the room.

I can recall his damn secretary's dumbfounded, overly made-up face as two men took me outside to throw me inside a waiting Jaguar XJ2010. It's funny how I could calmly name the brand and type of car despite the fact that I was being taken against my will. The human brain and extraordinary situations ...

My 'kidnappers' were dressed in black and wearing gas-masks. I wondered, if they felt specially intimidating by looking like Jason Voorhees.

The cell they threw me in was small and cold and uncomfortable. One guard was responsible to look after me. He raped me. Every single day. Fortunately (if that word is even appropriate to say) he was very young and therefore didn't have a lot of control over himself. After pinning me down it usually took him no more than ten thrusts until he came, spilling his seed on top of my belly. Disgusted I'd sit on the shower floor afterwards, letting the hot water pour over me until there wasn't any warmth in it left anymore. It made my skin shiver and my teeths chatter.

He thoughts, he was strong. He thought, he'd prove to me that I was below him by ravishing my body. How wrong he was. How wrong they all were. There was still something inside of me that fought.

At least, I thought that until the day I met him … _Albert Wesker_.

Albert Wesker … Albert Wesker … Albert Wesker … I could repeat this name in eternity and never would I understand the man behind it. He never raped me. He never even touched me. There was only one single time, he laid hand upon me. Never will I forget that inhuman strength in the underarm that he pressed against my throat. I could feel my own heart pump under his touch.

It turned out that he needed my help. I wanted to laugh out loud, spit in his face and tell him to kill me. I'd rather be in the ground, rotting, than working for an organization like his. But his attack taught me to never disobey him. So I worked. And worked. And worked. It felt like I was slowly losing my mind. I was washed out and drained from all energy when I fell on top of the uncomfortable mattress in the evening after a day in the laboratory.

I was Wesker's only hope left. It was a virus that he needed me to stabilize for him. He never revealed the true purpose of it. Nor did he ever open himself up to me. He always wore sunglasses to hide his eyes. I asked myself why. There was this barrier around him that nobody was allowed to break through.

But what I wondered about the most was if I'd ever be able to feel the breath of winter chill on my skin again.

* * *

**12th of January 2009**

I had fallen in love. With my guard.

No, not the one, who has raped me. It looks like Wesker disposed of that guy.

I know what you're thinking right now … How can you take someone into your bed, hell, even trust them after being violated and raped on more than just one level? Punch me in the face, if you feel like it. I probably deserve it. But my loneliness got to such a low level that even he saw it in my face. He was surprisingly respectful and almost tender-hearted. His name was Jason. We often talked when no-one was around.

He told me how Wesker wasn't human anymore. He injected himself with a Prototype virus and killed himself deliberately, leaving everyone in the belief that he was dead. But he rose again. And he returned with inhuman powers. To me it was like hearing that two and two equals four – nothing but logical.

This connection I shared with him … I can't tell what exactly it was. But I guess, we both shared the same kind of suppression. I wasn't the only tortured soul in this facility as it turned out. Wesker blackmailed him into working for him by threatening to kill his family. He used to be a researcher himself. How he landed in the defense department I don't know nor is it important to me. All that mattered to us was having each other.

When we slept together we took it slow and he was always careful, patient and loving. My fingers trailed over his handsome face, over the several scars visible on it and together we made escape plans, which we hoped to realize one day. We knew we were silly. Stupid. But it was the only good thing left in our exhausted minds. We gave each other hope. I thought, I knew what it means to love someone, to truly dedicate myself to them.

How wrong I was.

Although I was madly in love with Jason, I wasn't surprised to feel a strange attraction towards Wesker coming up at some point. At least we spent several months working side by side. I didn't fail to recognize how handsome he was behind that masquerade of being evil. His body was strong and athletic. His features had something aristocratic and elegant about them. But of course it was nothing but the inevitable result of having to endure his presence for so long. I even daydreamed about fucking him. Yes, I did and I felt ashamed for it and hoped that Jason would never be able to see it on my face.

I tried to shove those unwelcome emotions into the back of my head and I kept treating Wesker the same way I always had. Disrespectful and mocking. Behavior like that would bring me into great trouble soon, he liked to pray that to me every day.

I didn't care … He thought, I would dance to every single one of his commands like a monkey.

But still he tried to build a special kind of trust between us, a kind I unfortunately fell for. He acted polite in my presence, he gave me a better room to stay in, provided me with more food … I thought, I could finally get comfortable.

But trust … trust is a false friend down here as I had to learn.

* * *

**21st of February 2009**

Albert Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. This is how I was feeling. Insane. Finally I'd stabilized that god damn virus by doing the same thing over and over again every single day. I buried my face behind my hands and hid a wide smile.

I was scared to tell Wesker about it. Who knew what he would do to me now that I'd reached his goal. But on the other hand I didn't want to imagine what he would do to me, if I kept that information from him. Reason won.

Of course he was incredibly happy about the result – as much happiness as he was able to show at least. His way of thanking me for all the hard work seemed rather strange – at first. He touched my face with his always gloved hand and put a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. The tension inside of me … you can't even imagine.

I thought my last hour on this planet had arrived. My last minute. My last second … I couldn't focus on breathing anymore. The last thing I remember was looking at his skin under the bright laboratory lights. How it looked flawless, white, surreal … and then he kissed me. It was a hesitant, almost questioning kiss, but I answered by slowly opening my mouth to adjust my lips to his. Every single emotion I had tried to push away during those torturing months came forth. He pulled me close to his well-trained body and I felt his hand slowly sliding down between my shoulder blades down to the small of my back. An incredible shiver went through me. I was like a helpless kitten as he groped for my ass and put it on top of the examination table, assaulting my lips with biting and kisses until they were swollen. I noticed how soaking wet I was for him as he pushed the hem of my skirt up – this is where I realized that I truly wanted him.

But something came in between. A sting.

My look of desire quickly turned into one of pain as I realized that Wesker had thrust the needle of the virus sample inside my neck. It burned like fire inside of me and I screamed in agony as I felt the substance that I've created taking over my blood.

This day in February was when he marked me as his experiment.

* * *

**22nd of February 2009**

There was dark matter dancing in front of my eyes and I was ready. Ready to be taken by a supermassive black hole. A hole that would destroy every single atom of my body so I would not exist anymore and be finally free of this torture.

I remember that I tried to move, but my limps and brain somehow weren't co-operating together. I felt like I was floating in space.

I remember catching breath before losing consciousness again.

It felt like I was drowning in a liquid.

* * *

**25th of February 2009**

As I opened my eyes several days later, they were burning like fire. The silence I started to get used to got interrupted by an annoying, constant beeping sound next to me. A million little ants seemed to be walking over my body, making my skin tingle in an uncomfortable way.

My lips were rough and ripped open at some places. I could taste iron on my tongue and my throat was dry. There was a strange, pulsating pain inside my body. It felt like a cold river eating its way through my nerves.

I wished, I was dead.

* * *

**26th of February 2009**

He visited me today. Wesker. I could see his black silhouette standing at the end of my bed in the medicine facility. That's as much orientation I could get at this very moment.

Hatred boiled up inside of me and I wish, I could've attacked him. But I was weak, all my energy drained from the transformation the virus had caused inside my body. He only chuckled and claimed that he improved me.

After he left I kept staring at the ceiling, cursing his name until I took the time to look at the palm of my hand. It was still white, still human, still there were fragile looking bones beneath that flesh … still they weren't mine anymore. They had mutated into something alien.

Jason was allowed to look after me. I wasn't sure if Wesker knew what was going on between us. But it looked like he didn't care. At first I refused Jason's touch, refused his consolation. It was all anger against myself. How could he still love such a creature, I asked myself. How?

I'm so scared. Scared of becoming a monster. An animal with the urge to kill. Scared of becoming like Wesker.

Soon I realized that it was a battle, I could never win. The virus had different plans with us.

* * *

**7th of April 2009**

Jason hadn't shown up in several days. I nervously paced up and down the cell, I was being locked in, asking myself if something had happened. If Wesker found out.

I suddenly felt sick and rushed to the bathroom to vomit. I was used to it. It happened almost every day.

I tried to hate Wesker for it, tried to tell myself that I would get my revenge on him one day. For using my body like this. But with each day the hate against him faded. I couldn't explain why.

More and more my thoughts wandered back to what happened before he infected me. How he kissed me, how he touched me … didn't it all feel to real just to be an act? Had he secretly fallen for me too?

Almost every single night I dreamt of that incident. But in my dream there was no needle coming in between us. He ripped my clothes off and took me right on the table. When I woke up, I was covered in sweat and my heart was racing. But this wasn't the worst part … every single time after I woke up, I realized that I was unceremoniously wet. I wondered if I also said his name in my sleep … at least he was like a ghost to me. A ghost that possessed my body, my heart, my soul. Even the words that escaped my mouth in my sleep.

* * *

**8th of April 2009**

I looked at myself in the mirror today and saw that my eyes had turned amber.

I screamed and shattered the mirror with my fist.

The wounds healed within two minutes.

* * *

**10th of April 2009**

He was incredibly angry with me. It looked like the virus wasn't developing the way he wanted it. I knew he wanted to lay hand upon me. But he didn't. Or couldn't? Briefly I wondered if he could feel it too. This strange, internal pulling.

He badly needed a sample, I knew that. But somehow, unexplainable to me, my human side seemed to be in the way. It was still active, fighting against the strangeness inside of me.

* * *

**15th of April 2009**

I woke up after dreaming of him once more. But this time the dream didn't fully let off me. I felt someones presence in my bed. A body behind mine. I immediately knew it was him. Wesker.

I whispered in the dark what he wanted from me. It was a simple pronoun, directly melting into my hearts desires.

'You'.

As he moved his ungloved hand between my legs, I was ashamed to have been so wet already. He leaned his lips against my ear and purred what dirty things I'd been dreaming about.

As he turned me around I could see that he wasn't wearing his sunglasses. His eyes were crimson red. They were mutated like mine. I found that surprisingly comforting. I was so lost in his features, in the fact that the barrier between us was now broken, that he almost had to force my legs apart with his strong hands. That wouldn't have been necessary anyway. I was like a machine. I stretched my arms towards the ceiling so he could take off my shirt. I laid down on my back so he could peel me out of my thin hospital-like trousers and underwear. And before my brain even processed the fact that we were naked, he had already crawled on top of me. My heart was racing and the lust inside my belly boiling. I wanted to fully feel him.

I expected him to slowly enter me, but he didn't take me nice and easy. Instead he made me take all of him in one almost brutal thrust. I gasped from the pain and dug my nails deeply in the mattress. It felt like being a virgin again. He somehow seemed to notice that and gave me a minute. But it didn't take long for me to adjust myself to him.

He had just the right size and as he slammed inside of me, I couldn't help but become a puddle of moans under him. At some point he scooped me up and let me sit astride of him. I held him close, pushed my breasts against his hard upper body and enfolded his neck with my arms. I didn't want him to disappear. It all felt like a dream. Even him. He was perfect. I rode him painfully slow and his hands were always groping my hips or ass so he could make sure I always took all of him. I guess, he sort of wanted to fully possess me. As soon as my panting reached dramatic levels, he pushed me on my backside.

This is where things took a turn.

I was lying under him, shivering, because I was so close to my orgasm and I begged him not to stop. Begged. But all he did was looking down at me, his hands placed left and right to my shoulders. And he demanded something of me.

He wanted me to tell him that I was his. That he was the only one who had power over me.

His tongue ran along the inside of my thigh and I thought the lust inside of me would kill me. But I didn't say the words to him. Never would I have gone that low. I belonged to no-one at least.

I told him 'to go and fuck himself'. Of course he only smirked and said that I should better go and fuck myself at least I was close anyway. I should make it a good finish.

That statement gave me the rest. I had run out of words to throw against his head. I was glad that he left.

I felt used and dirty and my heart made my chest ache in humiliation.

I don't want my human side anymore. Its weak emotions are killing me.


	2. Chapter 2 - Kinetic

**CHAPTER 2 – Kinetic**

**Note from the author: **After the diary entries from Nebraska Jones the 'real' story is going to start taking place in this chapter right here. It's not written in first person anymore, but from the 3rd person view (to avoid confusion).

**The story is rated M because of the use of swear words and descriptive sex.**

* * *

_**I'm falling asleep**_

_**And I dream that you're mine**_

_**I dream that you're mine  
**__**You're mine.**_

_Radiokiller, Lonely Heart_

* * *

_Memories of me as a child. How I ran through the waist-high grass in my hometown. It was summer. The sun warmed my skin and the grass tickled my bare legs and feet. The sun gets replaced by the moon. Silver and cold and merciless. I stop in my track, staring up at it. It's turning red. And so are my eyes. I scream in agony as I crash down on the floor. Only it is not a soft field of grass anymore. It is ice. Don't they say you see your life pass in front of your eyes before you die?_

_There is no Death for me. Suddenly I'm a grown woman and I realise, that all that there is, is what I have been most afraid of. Of what happens when you turn off the lights in the darkest hour of the night. When I close my eyes there's only one thing I see. One deadly colour. A crimson fire alight in the dark. It reminds me of the eyes of someone that I belong to and my body is aching for. But why is it that I'm afraid of it? If I listen closely to my inner self, I know that there is nothing to be scared of. That everything is the way it is supposed to be._

_When I close my eyes it's all I see. His crimson eyes._

_I let it happen. I slowly let go off the little bit of humanity that is left inside of me. I can see her drifting away. She is safe on the surface while I am sinking like a stone down a bottomless, black sea. I'm sinking. Sinking. Sinking. Sick. Air turns into water. Water becomes fire._

_And then there is nothing._

_Nothing._

* * *

There is a grey ceiling above her. Although her strange amber eyes are transfixed on it, she does not see it. There is the stomping sound of heavy boots walking past her room. She does not hear it. Her back and head are placed on top of soft blankets. She does not feel it.

Her muscles are slightly jerking while she is focusing on waking up from her trance. She knows that outside these walls the glory of the day has arrived. Nothing but nightmares have filled her dreams during the night. A night that consisted of barely three hours of sleep.

She longs to go outside, yearns to get fresh air to clear her head from this miserable situation. What would it feel like? To her terror, she has to admit that she can't remember. The virus inside of her has erased any human memories such as that relieving feeling of summer rain dropping on your skin or the taste of fresh Spring air that is impregnated with the scent of blooming flowers.

And this is all just because of one single man and his undeniable desire that has caused her to become what she is now. _Albert Wesker._

Her heart aches as she thinks of his name and she turns herself on her side, pulling her knees up to her chest to prevent it from aching. All night has she been waiting for him. All night until the hidden light of the day has painted the sky outside blue.

It is silly. Stupid. She knows it but the now fully grown the virus won't let go off him anymore, steering her emotions and hearts desires. They all orbit around him now. It is her choice. The intimacy they had shared was incredible and she guesses it has brought him what he wanted. The sex they had was the final push it has needed - the virus possessing her. There is nothing but benefits in every action that he does. The virus is in control of her now. Making her indestructible, animalistic and craving for his affection.

Still she has this unpleasant, annoying throbbing between her legs. That yearn to become one with him and she decides to take a long,hot shower now to take care of that herself. As frustrating as the way it had ended is, still will he be a part of her sexual fantasies. Her high cheekbones are accentuated by a slight rosy color and her lower parts flush as she thinks back to what he let her do on top of him. How he gave her the pervy feeling of being the one in control. It's nothing but a fun game to him using her like that, she knows it. Unfortunately, it is an unfair game that she would give in to any day. She can sense deep inside that he could be a good lover, the best she will probably ever have in her life, since they share the same fate together. They understand what is going on inside each other's body. The suffering, the inhumanity but also the power that being different brings. Wesker is a slave to his moods although and it is too easy for him to just let himself being steered by them and at the same time dragging her with him like a doll.

She steps into the shower and turns the water on. It is hot and pours down to meet the top of her head and she tightly shuts her eyes under its caressing. Why is water capable of that? No matter if it's blood that bounds with it, washing it off your body after a murder or removing the dirt from a horrible escape through the woods. Every single time you step out of it and get to feel the steamy air and goosebumps crawling over your skin, it's like being reborn. As if all your sorrows were drowned and washed away down the drain. Slowly the stream eases its way down over the gentle curves of her backside and her legs to finally hit the porcelain ground, creating a soothing sound. _The sound of summer rain._ She likes that tone and notices how her dead human part tries to dig its zombie-like figure to the surface of her mind, reminding her of what a human should be like. It doesn't work. It's like a signal sent into outer space never to return. Shortly there is a throbbing pain going through her temples, but it fades quicker than she can count to three. There's an ache that's even more intense. Located in a delicate place of her body.

Slightly she bends her head backwards to let the water run over her face and soak the front of her body. Her fingertips slowly stroke over the porcelain skin between her breasts, over her stomach until they land in the spot that has been aching since yesterday. Her other hand finds hold on the white tiles of the shower wall.

For a moment, she hesitates, ruefully thinking of the words he has said to her before leaving her lying there like a toy he got bored of.

_"Why don't you fuck yourself", he said in a humiliating tone. "As far as I could tell you where close anyway, make it a good finish."_

The mere memory of this moment makes her close her eyes in shame.

Look at you, Nebraska, she thinks. Making every word he has said the bitter truth. You're standing under the shower, touching yourself … isn't this exactly what he wants?

But how will he find out … he never will. She is sure about this. Wiping these thoughts out of her mind she continues to sneak the tips of her finger inside her warmth.

_He is here, standing right behind her. She can feel his radiating warmth. His strong arms embrace her wet curves from behind and his hands cup her breasts while his lips make the skin of her neck tingle under their touch._

_"You are so beautiful", he breathes against her ear, stroking a few soaked strands of her hair aside._

There's the ghost of a smile at the corner of her lips and she closes her eyes, leaning her head back, slightly parting her lips as she inhales. It is her damn fantasy, why not create him the way she pleases? Make him say things, he probably would never say out loud.

_His steel-like body is leaned against her well- sculptured shoulder blades, his even harder erection pressed against the small of her back._

_"I'm going to take care of you", he continues his teasing. "Thoroughly."_

Startled she gasps for air and stops in motion as there's a sudden loud knock on her door. And another one. She throws a furious glance at the white tiles in front of her, her amber hues alight. Why does she need to be awoken from dreams that she does want? All that remains for her are the horrible nightmares as it seems.

"Well, FUCK!", she curses in frustration and sends her fist crashing into the tiles.

Her impulsive blow causes some of them to break out of the wall and fall down to shatter on the porcelain ground of the shower. She lets her chin sink towards her chest and stares at the little broken pieces being flushed into the drain by the force of the water. The skin on her knuckles has turned slightly red but it doesn't hurt her. There's another insisting knock. Eventually she decides to turn the tap off.

Heavily breathing and with a weakness in her knees that takes her by surprise, she grabs for a robe hanging on the hook of the door and covers herself up. She better goes and opens the door. If not, Wesker would probably kick it open. She is glad that he even has knocked. It would have been more than embarrassing being caught in the shower doing something that would prove him again that she is nothing but an overly horny, infected piece of trash to him.

Logically thinking it can be no-one else but him, right? The anger from before takes possession of her and she swears, no matter how aroused she might have been, no matter how much she wished for him to fuck her brains out in her fantasy world, she would scratch his bloody eyes out if he dared to ask for a second round. She has given him too much of her already. She let him sleep with her, possess her body and what is worst, she is giving him the gift of the fully developed virus.

Determined and with a stern expression on her face she wanders towards the door while adjusting the soft robe sloppily around her wet body. The look on her face turns into one of confusion as she sees John Williams, or better Doctor John Williams, standing in front of it. He is a tall, slim man with the constant smell of too much eau de Cologne. His dark-brown hair is strictly combed sideways and he is staring at her through sherry-like eyes. It's disturbing looking into them. Not as disturbing as the crimson hell that Wesker's eyes are, but still weird enough to make her feel uneasy. Right behind him there is standing a guard. He is not only very tall, he is also heavily armed. There is a big gun laying in his arms like a baby that is waiting to be awoken from its sleep. Just like everybody else in his position, he is wearing a gas mask and a black uniform, so she can't tell who it is hiding behind it.

"Doctor", she greets him sarcastically, her heartbeat slowing down from her wonderful daydream and her weird expectance to see Wesker.

'Didn't you learn it last night, you silly girl?', she thinks bitterly. 'He will never show up. Not for an apology, not for a second round. Although he does owe you for pulling you into his circe of carnal lust.'

She tries to ignore the fact that a sudden disappointment takes over her. Her fingertips dig themselves into the doorframe just like they have dug themselves in her aching flesh before.

"Good morning, Miss Jones", the Doctor greets her too brightly, showing her a row of wolfish teeth. "I'm here because Wesker has sent me to have a look on you."

"Wesker", she says hollow. "To have a look on me? About what?"

To her embarassment she realises that the not very well tied robe reveals quite a lot of her cleavage and as it is too short for comfort the two gentlemen get to see the view of her bare legs from mid-thigh on. Quickly she puts a protective arm over her chest and with the other hand she tries to cover herself up as good as possible. If her eyes are not playing a trick on her, she is almost sure that Doctor Williams is slightly blushing. She throws an intense glare at both of them.

"Erm ... well, it concerns the unsatisfactory development of the virus inside your body", he replies, forcing himself to not let his eyes wander over her body and quietly clears his throat. "We need to run a few tests on you. As you know, we are in great need of a sample."

Nebraska huffs, masking the feeling of sheer panic taking over her. "You have to be kidding me, right? It develops just the way it is supposed to be. End of story. Now get the hell away from me."

The guard standing behind the Doctor clenches the grip of his gun as if to try and remind her of the intimidating piece of metal in his arms.

"I am afraid, you have no choice", Doctor Williams says and there is a pityful expression on his face. But also something else. Enjoyment. Yes, he is enjoying this.

"Or what?", she says challenging. "Is that little lapdog of Wesker's behind you going to shoot me down?"

Doctor Williams throws a quick glance at the guy standing behind him. "We were hoping that his presence wouldn't be necessary, but Wesker insisted on it since you are ..."

"Since I'm what?", she huffs challenging, the glowing of her eyes intensifying itself for a spell.

"Does it matter?", he says, his voice serious and the complete opposite of his attitude before. This is not a game to him anymore. "I am not here to reply any of your questions. I just do what I've been asked to do. So, would you care to come with me?"

"Can I at least finish my shower?", she acquiesces in a sarcastic tone. "Or would you like to drag me with you with nothing on my skin?"

* * *

_How long has he been trapped in here?_

_How long does he sit under those artificial, too bright lights already?_

Jason quickly looks up as he hears a lock being turned. It is Wesker. He swallows bitterly and turns his head sideways in order to avoid looking at this man's face. The man who has forced several people standing under his command to bring him here.

"Are you here to explain to me what the hell this is all about, Wesker?", he askes, trying to remain a calm and stable tone.

He gets up from the bed he was sitting upon and now faces him directly. He is not afraid of him. At least he tries to tell that to himself. Because seeing this tall man, completely dressed in black, walking towards him is a admittedly frightening sight. But why show it on the outside?

"In fact, I am", Wesker replies, his cold voice sending a shiver down his spine. "I guess, we are both not into chit-chat, right? So let's get straight to the point."

"If this is about Nebraska ...", Jason utters, a bitter smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

"That's too good for a guess", Wesker replies.

Jason chuckles quietly in disbelief. "I guess, you have found out about us. And to be honest. I do not care about that. It is none of your ..."

"In this case it is my business", Wesker interrupts him. "She is my test subject and I don't want any of my men near her."

"Well, looking at that ridicolous scene around us, you seem to be more than serious about that. Tell me Wesker, are you sure it is only because of the fact that she is your test subject? Be honest, do you want her for yourself?"

There is supposed to be a tone of disinterest in Jason's voice, but there is an awareness in his eyes that proves the opposite. It is a question that means everything to him.

"If you think that I want her the same way you do, meaning a relationship, then you are on the wrong track."

'Lies' his virus whispers.

Wesker shakes this unwelcome voice off.

"The main problem is" Wesker lifts one of his fingers to underline his statement. "Staying with you hinders the virus from developing itself."

"What the hell are you talking about?", Jason says and knits his eyebrows in a serious and admittedly annoyed manner.

"It means exactly what I have said. Have you not noticed how even after all those weeks as a carrier she is still the same ... woman."

Annoying little brat, he felt like saying firstly, but he swallows those words down.

"And that virus she has stabilised for us", Wesker adds. "I have never experienced something like that before. Or maybe it is just her. It's mesmerising but also steals every single bit of patience I have inside of myself. You have been a researcher yourself and watching her development I am sure that you can agree with me that it is not going the way it should be going."

"Well, yes I do", Jason admits. "But to be honest with you ... I am glad that it is going like this. You have destroyed her life already, Wesker, so I am more than happy that a little woman is finally the one who is standing up against you."

There is a shadow wandering over Weskers face and he can't think of any other solution but to grab Jason by his throat und push him against the wall. Heavily panting Jason locks his gaze with his and tries not to fight against it. As much as he wants to kill this man, he knows that he does not stand a chance against his powers. But those words coming out of his mouth before, they are something he has had on his chest for a long time already and finally having been able to get rid of them feels great. Actually it is the fact of seeing Wesker upset is what makes him the happiest. Who would have thought it? Albert Wesker, self-assigned god, at his wits end.

"You love her, don't you?", Wesker askes, his tone as sweet as sugar, a creepy smile on his lips.

Jason gives him his most disgusted look and before he can even re-think any of his planned actions he spits at him. This action is steered by an unexplainable impulse that can only be described as jealousy and hurt pride.

"Fuck you", he says angry. Keep on poking inside the wasps nest.

Wesker remains unmoved as the wetness crashes against his cheek. He then slowly wipes it off with the back of his gloved hand. His jaw is tense but his breath is calm.

"You really have a Death wish, don't you Jason?", he grows deeply. "That would be too fucking nice if that came reality for you, right? But guess what ... you haven't served your purpose yet. Just like Nebraska hasn't served hers."

"I have nothing left anymore. You took it all from me", he bitterly throws back at him. "My family, my life, my ..."

"Your woman?", Wesker figures out and there's a creepy smile showing at the corner of his mouth.

Jason can't point at it right now but he can feel that Wesker knows something. Something valuable. Something that could destroy him.

"Soon the day will come where she won't recognise you anymore. Where she won't even recognise or remember her true self anymore. Where she will no longer tell friend from foe. Where she will realise that the only right place will be by my side."

"She hates you! Never will she bend to such an inhuman like you are!"

Desperately he is trying to soak some air in and fails miserably. He knows that his words are nothing but empty excuses to veil the fact that he has lost her already. Lost someone he could have probably shared a life with.

"I am afraid it's too late for that. Already she seems to be a slave to my will. Oh yes, I had her yesterday", Wesker says full of pleasure, moving in closer. "That little rebel of a woman couldn't say no to me."

"Lies", Jason forces out of his hurting throat, not believing his own words either.

Suddenly no word, no sentence, no language on this planet could be able explain the amount of emotions going on inside of him. Everything just vanishes but also appears at the same time. He doesn't feel the tight grip of Weskers hand around his throat anymore but still there is this unbearable feeling of choking. His limbs are boneless but his whole body seems to break down in pain, his blood is boiling but the coldest chill is eating its way through him. Anger, frustration, capitulation.

Weskers presence puts everyone in a state like that and he is afraid that this bastard has already fogged up her mind to. Or should he say 'fucked' her mind up too? It is terrible to realise that his worst imaginations seem to have become reality. Wesker and Nebraska.

"Why should I lie about something like that?"

Wesker cups Jasons chin in his hand and puts his mouth right next to his ear. There is a cold shiver running through his body.

"Don't you just love it too to watch her face when you do her? That look of complete fulfillment when I moved into her. Those moans of pleasure as I made her take all of me, those desperate gasps for more as I did her harder than you probably ever had." He sighes in fake pleasure. "And don't get me started on her body, that betraying innocent look of her eyes ... Does it still feel to you as if I am lieing?"

A mean smile plays at the corner of Wesker's mouth and his hand lets off Jason. He crashes down on the floor, coughing and putting his hands over his sore neck. He has to control his breath, has to try to not vomit, has to focus so hard to not see them, to not even imagine what Wesker just described before. The plain thought of it ... of course he is lieing, must be lieing. Because Nebraska has made it clear several times already. Her wish of killing Wesker in order to escape together with him. _Together_.

'You matter so much to me, Jason.' Her naked body entangled with his. 'I want us to be free together.'

Those were her words. _Us._ How pathetic it suddenly seems now. How ridiculous to have even trusted her. Because he is sure, if Wesker is not lieing then she is.

"Think about my words, Jason. You have time enough in here", Wesker says casually and adjusts his gloves. "As sorry as I am, but I have to go now. There is a meeting I have to attend. A meeting that will decide about your future aswell. So, if you'll excuse me."

* * *

"Son of a bitch, I'm going to get you for that."

Quietly Nebraska keeps cursing to herself, while quickly pacing down the long corridor in front of her. Time to burst into Weskers quarters without any invitation. Someone has to take the first step. It is nothing but childish behavior that Wesker has lost himself into. Nothing but fear of crossing the way of a woman that was able to unveil his masquerade. Having a good excuse in her hands which is a clip board, she hurries down the familiar corridor towards his quarters.

"Mind if I am the one to bring Wesker the results?", she said cold after the investigation, moving towards the Doctor until it was too close for comfort. Immediately he pressed the board into her hands, licking his dry lips in fear. He has never felt very comfortable in the presence of Wesker's infected subjects and most of all in his presence in general, so he is glad that she is the one who relieves him from this task.

The demand to speak with him has suddenly turned from being a strong wish to an absolute necessity. If Wesker thinks he can fuck her and throw her away without dragging any consequences with it then he's on the wrong track.

But as she pushes the door open all determination that was inside her body disappears. She freezes in motion. There is someone sitting on the sofa with Wesker. A breath-taking beautiful brunette. Her legs are crossed and there is a cigarette between her lips. The way they are sitting together is almost too much to bear. The brunette's hand is lying on one of his broad shoulders and she is sitting confidentially close to him. Wesker throws a glance towards the sound of the opening door and Nebraska standing under it. For a moment she can see the ghost of surprise and maybe even astonishment on his features. But those emotions disappear too fast and get replaced by fury instead.

"Ever heard of knocking before?", he scoffs, his arm stretched along the backside of the sofa. His hand is almost brushing the woman's shoulder. "Get the hell out."

There are several pieces of paper, probably reports, lying in front of them on the glass table. Is she a business partner? Are her greedy little manicured hands also after the virus she has developed?

"Sorry", is all she manages to stutter dumbfounded before turning on her heel to back out of this more than embarrassing situation.

She can not help to take a brief look back and sees how the icy blue eyes from the brunette follow her and she is almost sure to see a glint of amusement and pity behind all the rising smoke of the cigarette between her fingers.

"Wait", the brunette suddenly chirps sweetly. "You are Nebraska, aren't you?"

She has an accent. Probably French or Russian. Nebraska decides to give her the non-friendly treatment.

"No, it's West Virginia. Who wants to know that anyway?", she replies and with a slight lift of her chin she turns herself towards them again, trying to gather any feeling of bravery inside of her. Just any feeling that proves the opposite of her undeniable inner pain of seeing Wesker sitting there with this ... goddess of a woman.

"Oh my, he is right about you."

In a superior manner she blows the smoke out. Briefly Nebraska eyes Wesker, who is carrying an undefinable expression on his face. He seems to avoid any glimpse into her direction. What has he told her? Eventually he opens his mouth.

"Nebraska, get out, just like I said", Wesker commands once more. There is no mercy in his tone. No recognition of any passion he might have felt for her yesterday.

Nebraska knows that he means it and the wish of getting out of here is more than urgent. Just as she is on the verge of proceeding her walk towards the exit once more the brunette proceeds her monologue.

"Oh, don't be like that, Albert", she says unimpressed, playfully. She shortly pats Wesker's leg and slowly gets up from the sofa to amble towards her.

She is definitely a woman who is more than aware of what she has to offer. Her body is enfolded in black silk that covers only what is necessary and she is nothing but radiating confidence.

"I'd like to take a look at your experiment."

As if waiting for that codeword something inside of Nebraska seems to wake up. Like a hellhound it growls deep inside of her and the amber of her eyes slightly lights up. She can smell the brunette's expensive perfume with a sudden clear intensity, but also the invincible smell of her vanity, shallowness and of her blood, pumping through her veins. The virus has sharpened her senses.

"You haven't mentioned how beautiful she is", she says, a fake smile on her face and her arms crossed under her probably fake breasts. "It's almost too much of a pity you had to destroy such a supposedly brilliant human mind by infecting it. But ah, it is inevitable if we want the virus, isn't it?"

"We?", Nebraska hisses through gritted teeth, squinting her eyes with growing provocation.

Wesker turns his head towards Nebraska, just to see how her breath accelerates itself, how her eyes narrow themselves at the woman standing in front of her, how her hands turn into fists. And her eyes. They suddenly seem to be on fire.

"What the hell!", the brunette exclaims anxiously, staggering a few steps backwards, her eyes transfixed on the beauty releasing her power.

There's a sudden rumbling, distant sound like when a forest far away gets hit by a storm and its trees start screaming and bending themselves under its sheer power. The board in her hand falls to the ground and suddenly Wesker can feel that strange pulling inside of him awakening. The fire, the tension, the seduction from yesterday are back in the room. But this time so much stronger. He puts a hand on his chest as his heart suddenly seems to race. The room turns a few shades darker as one of the light bulbs above them explodes, sending hundreds of little shards raining to the ground. Sparks of electricity shoot out of the ceiling, raining down on the top of her copper-haired head.

Eventually he finds back to his senses and immediately closes the distance between them to grab Nebraska by the upper arm. Almost does he let go off it it as her skin is boiling hot. Not that it would have hurt him, he is mainly taken by surprise. Immediately she reacts to his touch, her skin tingles as the virus feels the connection to its counterpart. She turns her burning hues towards him and suddenly they seem to be in the eye of the storm because everything goes quiet. For a moment this incredible sensation of being drawn into this black void that is their desire for each other is present and she wishes for nothing more but to drift into his arms, to touch him, to kiss him, to make him fuck her like yesterday. But still that little human part inside of her digs its way to the surface and she rips her arm out of his grip. Although it's hard, very hard, It's like her body wants to be stuck with his forever. Not ever letting go of it.

"Don't fucking touch me", she hisses and puts a protective hand over the skin he has dared to touch before. There is a slight tremble detectable in her voice.

Wesker decides to act as unimpressed as possible and so he first turns his attention to the brunette who doesn't seem to have realised at the slightest what just happened. Experiencing a B.O.W unleashing their power. There's a first for everything.

"That's enough", he puts an end to this. "Excella! Sit. Down. Now."

Every syllable cuts through the air like a blade. Excella's face has turned white under the several coats of bronzing make-up and Nebraska notices a slight shake of her fingers. She swallows and nods before staggering back to the sofa. Quite the opposite if comparing it to her elegant steps from before.

"And you." He points a warning finger towards Nebraska and bends down to pick up the board she has dropped.

Before he can take a glance at it she rips it out of his hands and presses it against her chest. There is something in her gaze that scares him. Something black and empty. Something inhuman. This unexplainable feeling of fear is gone quickly though.

"You'll come with me for a word. Now!"

* * *

The door to his office slams closed and he furiously turns himself towards her. Just as he is about to shout at her, she allows herself to have the first word.

"You're collecting women like trophies, don't you Wesker?", she spits in malice.

Burning, breath-taking jealousy takes over her. Her heart squeezes itself together in pain and she raises her hand to hurt him. Just like he is hurting her. With ease he stops the blow that she is trying to send across his face. Her smaller fist fits easily into his gloved hand. Not giving up she tries to start an attack with her legs instead. Her muscles suddenly feel tense and powerful, the virus is in complete control of her and wishes for nothing more but to destroy him. Before she can even touch him with her heels, he firmly grabs her wrists and pushes his stomach against hers. There's a loud thud audible and a moan produced from Nebraska as his weight pushes her against the dresser standing in front of the wall. There is so much strength in it that it knocks off the lamp standing on it. Loudly it shatters to the ground. The light bulb in it explodes into several pieces that strew themselves over the floor. Helplessly she gasps for air as his hands find her butt and easily lift her up to place her on top of the furniture, shoving any remaining books and papers carelessly off its wooden surface. Cardboard and stashes of paper crash to the ground. It is all noises that the brunette probably must have heard and for a moment Nebraska wonders what kind of impression of what they're doing in the office it must give her. Both of their heartbeats have accelerated themselves to an unbearable drumming sound in their heads caused by the power of the two viruses awakening together. His fingers dig themselves in her soft strands at the back of her head, capturing her head in his grip so she has no chance of escaping the burning intensity in his eyes. She swallows and steadily holds the gaze with her creator. For a felt eternity he seems to soak in the beauty of her facial features. The world seems to be charged with electricity as it is awaiting their next move.

"I can feel it", he eventually utters quietly. "I can feel the virus inside of you. Finally."

He inhales as if being relieved and the tenseness in his body is gone. "Why did you have to come, Nebraska?", he continues, leaning his forehead against hers. "Why?"

She wants to answer, wants him to stop his ravishing, but the virus holds her in a tight grip and she is unable of any movement or word. He is close, so very close. Their lips are only a few inches apart and his accelerated breathing turns her more on that he would possibly ever know. His lower body isn't touching hers, but the warmth radiating from it awakes every single nerve between her spread legs. Forcing herself to not lose the upper hand of the situation this time, she asks him a question in return instead.

"Who the hell is she and what does she want with my virus?"

"Your virus?", he answers with a smirk.

"Yes, I assume she is a business partner, right?", she continues, squinting her eyes in suspicion. "Or at least I hope you had doing business with her on the sofa ..."

"So, this is what this is about?", he chuckles darkly.

Ashamed she turns her head to the side and she wishes that he would let go off her wrists, so she could cross her arms in front of her chest. To feel less exposed, to feel less vulnerable in front of this man.

"Like I said before", she continues, her eyes set into a dark corner of his office. "Women are nothing but a proof of power that you like to collect on your way to your insane goals, aren't they?", she growls through gritted teeth. "You fucking disgust me."

"What difference should a woman in my bed make? You seem to be mistaken me to be a person who easily succumbs to weak, human needs. Once more you have no idea who is standing in front of you."

"You do not succumb to human needs?", she says and exhales derisively. "What about yesterday? You have fucked me, Wesker! You have done me like I am some sex toy, just to leave me in the end like a whore that you don't feel like paying. Don't you know how god damn humiliating that was? Tell me ... tell me, that you're not this kind of person. I dare you to say to my face, that there is nothing that you want from me. That the reason why all of this happened is, because you have lost control over yourself!"

A groan of agony escapes her throat as he lays his strong fingers around her throat and carelessly shoves her from the wooden surface of the dresser to the ground. As her reflexes aren't fully developed yet, she can't react fast enough and therefore crashes with her shoulder on the hard floor. Shutting her eyes in pain, she rolls herself on her back. Wesker steps next to her and bends down to grab her by her hair, painfully tugging at it. She tries to stay strong, tries to show no sign of pain and with all strength that she can gather, she reaches with her hands for his and scratches over the back of his fist. But all that she manages to do is rip off some of the black color on his gloves. Why does he always have to wear them? She exhales frustrated.

"I never lose control", he hisses dangerously. "Don't you dare to talk to me like that."

A shiver runs down her spine. The tone in his voice scares her. There's only one thing she can hear in it. Madness. He has truly lost his mind.

"Fine, I fucked you, but that's only because I wanted the virus to take over you. I wanted you to forget who you are ..." He lays his lips right on her ear and with a sneer she shows him her teeth. "I literally fucked your brain out, haven't I? Don't you think I got what I wanted in the end by giving you the imaginary feeling to be something special?"

With a sudden thud her head crashes back onto the cold, marble floor as he lets go off her hair and this is when hell breaks loose for her. Tears fill her eyes and although she swore to herself to never be weak in front of him, she sobs. There's a throbbing pain going through her shoulder. But this pain is never as bad as the horrible invisible knife that is piercing her heart right now. It isn't the final blow though. The strike to kill her hasn't reached the vulnerable part of her exposed neck yet.

"It is you who enjoys having a man inside of you just to gather a feeling of being the one in power. It is you who is the weak one. It is you who succumbs to low human needs. You willingly spread your legs for anyone, don't you? Jason, me ... who knows how many others there were before me. Let's face it, little dove, you're nothing but a cock-sucking whore."

It is like the whole room has gone silent. There's not a single draw of breath and her head feels like trapped inside a sound-proof bubble. She can hear her own blood rushing through her veins and she looks at him, trying to proceed the meaning of his words, trying to tell her heart that the poison of his words should stop its beating. But crawling on the ground, in one of the lowest positions she could have ever found herself, she looks up to him, an eerie smile playing at the corners of her mouth. It is a scary contrast to the tears that are streaming down her cheeks. Wesker stares down to her like a hunter watching his dying prey. But deep inside of him, he can sense it again - this weird connection that his virus developed with its counterpart. It hurts him too seeing her like that. At least this deadly void that he's being drawn into has never been so present like right now. And that's why he has to be cruel to her, has to hurt her. To feel the pain himself. He wants to be punished for allowing himself to have fallen for her.

"I see", she manages to say quietly, her heart drumming in her chest, proving to her that it is not dead yet.

Slowly, like a sleepwalker, she gets up from the ground, ignoring the shards from the lightbulb that dig themselves into the palm of her hands. She straightens her stature to one of honor and grace in front of him, slightly lifting her chin and never breaking the deadly stare he is sending at her. No matter how big the pain inside of her, it shall not hunch her, it shall not cripple her limbs in front of him.

"I see", she breathes once more. So quietly, so full of suffer.

With slow steps she walks towards the exit of his dimly light office. As her hand grabs for the doorknob, she hesitates for a second and then looks back over her shoulder. He is still standing there, his back turned towards her. His hands are turned into fists, the mere pressure of his fingertips digging deeply into the leather, leaving half moon shaped marks. She feels sorry for him. Sorry for him being such a pitiful and pathetic person.

"You may be able to sense my virus, but never forget that I am also connected to yours now. I will never regret what we have done, Wesker", she admits.

Does she know that all he wants to do is gently stroke over her body with his ravishing hands? Does she know that the tenseness in his jaw is nothing but an indicator to his own denial?

"Look at yourself in the mirror and say everything that you have just said to me once more. Could you bear to look into the face of a liar?"

Of course she knows, they are bound now.

Suddenly there is an amused, yet wounded, smile back on her face. "Fine, if you want to call me cock-sucking whore, go ahead. But do you think I can't see the boner you have for me from here? So, if you'll excuse me, I'll show myself out now."

* * *

Fighting against the tears in her eyes and the weakness in her knees she knocks at the door to Jason's room. She needs him. Now. She wants to embrace his body, feel his human warmth and consolation. She wants to feel his love until those terrible images of that beautiful woman have disappeared out of her mind, until those killing words of Wesker have erased from her memory. But there is no response.

"Jason, it's me", she says softly and leans her forehead against the wooden door. "Please, open."

The door remains unlocked and to her despise she has lost the fight against her tears as they are filling her amber eyes, the door in front of her becoming a blur. The tears are warm and almost like an embrace to her beaten body. Sobbing she presses her back against the door and slowly sinks down to the floor.

What the hell has just happened? In disbelief and shock she looks at her shaking fingers. She moves and stretches them, a wondrous stare in her eyes. They're hands that may look beautiful and fragile, but inhabited seems to slumber an unspeakable power not even she was aware of. Probably not even Wesker. He might have tried to gather himself together but she could see and mainly feel her virus taking over his. The undecidedness in his grip. Maybe even a little bit of panic.

Despite all those thoughts there is still one question of main interest: she wants to know who that woman was. She burns to know it. Was she in the end really nothing but a nice fuck to him? A little toy he could take out and play with just to throw it away in the end? It would prove every single word he has said to her before as true. But she knows, he wants her just as much as she wants him. More than ever before. Never has the virus been so present and so in control her like right now. This longing for him is racing through her veins, making her breath hard to control. Nebraska pushes her fist against her forehead, shutting her eyes tightly.

"You fucking dumbass", she sobs. Her lungs hurt and burn.

Frustrated she throws the board to the ground, that she has fortunately taken with her. It lands with a loud, shattering noise.

* * *

Three red drops land on the little piece of glass in front of him. Placing it under the microscope, Dr. Williams tiredly collapses on the chair and then squeezes one eye closed to have a look through the lens. Slowly he adjusts the focus until the substance is clear in front of his eyes.

For a few minutes he studies Nebraska's blood, taking notes on the board next to him. There's no sound, but the scratching of the pen and his face is motionless and serious, there's no recognition whether what he sees is pleasing or just plain ordinary, but there's a slight unease detectable as he gets up to rush into the corner to look for a certain file. Wesker's file.

Quickly he finds what he has been looking for and impatiently he rips the piece of paper out of the stack to rush back to his working place. Carefully he starts comparing the blood pictures and what he finds, causes his breath to stop for a second.

"Holy shit …", he mutters and quickly reaches for the phone on the working table. Wesker almost immediately answers.

"It better be important", he snarls. "I'm in a meeting."

Dr. Williams swallows. Wesker never really helps him to calm his nerves. "I'm sure it is important, sir. It's about subject NJ326. I think, you better come and have a look yourself."


	3. Chapter 3 - The Awakening

**CHAPTER 3 - The Awakening**

**Note from the author:**

_**Rated M for swear words and descriptive sex.**_

* * *

_**It isn't easy for me to let it go  
**__**Cause I've swallowed every single word  
**__**Every whisper, every sigh  
**__**Eats away at this heart of mine.**_

_**But it's not enough to tell me that you care  
**__**When we both know that words are empty air  
**__**You give me nothing.**_

_Calvin Harris feat. Florence Welch, Sweet Nothing_

* * *

The night has arrived and thousands of stars are showing their dazzling beauty on the dark, velvet surface of the sky. She is sitting on the roof, eyes closed and her nostrils are deeply inhaling the air. It is cold and slightly burns in her lungs. But it's the best thing she has felt for ages. Months and months has she been trapped underground, nothing but plain white her daily companion, nothing but what felt like artificial air. This feels like having nature back inside of her. Being infected it allows her to separate every gust of wind that is reaching her. There's the rich and heavy smell of wet earth, the rotten sweetness of fallen leaves, the rusty smell of blood of an animal's dying prey … she wishes to be happy, wishes for nothing more but to shout down to the sleeping city beneath her. But Wesker's behavior has struck her deeply.

There's no joy, no urge to smile and most of all no energy left inside of her. Intensely her eyes stare down the abyss in front of her. She can't see the floor and she asks herself how long of a drop it is and if it would kill her, if she tested it out. Her feet are dangling off the ledge, her heels slightly scratching against the stone-like surface of the building. But he keeps returning into her mind. The man who has said the cruelest words to her. And she knows that her own life is worth more than dealing with his obvious self-consciousness.

In the depths of her heart she knows that he hasn't meant a single syllable. What hurts is mainly the fact that a person can deny something so much that they start believing it themselves.

"What are you doing up here? You're not supposed to go out, you know that."

Abruptly drawn out of her deep thoughts, she turns around to the familiar voice behind her. The dark, velvet voice that never fails to make her heart skip a beat.

Wesker's black dressed stature is standing a few feet away from her, hands folded behind his back. Releasing a sigh she decides to return her gaze towards the city line. Towards the houses, where normal families are sleeping soundly in their rooms. What the hell does he want now? He is the most exhausting male being, she ever had to deal with in her life. And slowly she has grown more than tired of it.

"I was just trying to figure out, what the quickest way is to get to the city to find a male human species to practice my blow-job techniques on … according to you that's the only thing I can be used for anyway."

Analyzing the silence that follows, she is sure that he doesn't know what to say to that and for a second an amused smile appears at the corner of her mouth. But the sadness makes its return rather quick.

"It's not like, I would flee, is it? I don't belong to … them anymore.""

"I'd rather describe your personality as risk-taking and dangerously sarcastic", he eventually replies. And it's true, you don't belong to them anymore. You never have to speak the truth."

"If that's another insult …", she says threatening.

Showing her a weak smile, he goes on: "It wasn't my intention to make it sound like an insult. It's just that you're special, Nebraska, very special."

"If you claim that I'm special, then tell me what is going on with me Wesker. That before … what the hell was it?"

He knows that she is talking about the exploding lightbulb and the strange energy that has surrounded her and for a spell he looks at her blandly. "I don't know", he admits, shattering any hope of explanation inside of her. At a casual pace he closes the distance between them and joins her side.

"But something that I do know, is that your blood is special."

"Why?", she says in fake disinterest, in truth she burns to know what he is on about.

"It turns out that you are able to control your virus. It has always fascinated me anyway, that even at a more advanced stage you seem to have successfully fought against it."

"And?"

"Have you never asked yourself where that strength to defend yourself against the virus came from?"

"I always thought it was my humanity", she admits after a pause, realizing how silly this sounds.

Wesker chuckles and what he reveals now, stops her breath for a second. "You carry the same blood like I do … or at least the blood I was carrying before I was re-born."

"Re-born?", she asks.

"Don't act so innocent … I know that you're aware of what I am. Jason and you like to talk, don't you?"

"How'd you …?" But she's smart enough to stop the question midway, since it isn't necessary to ask him anyway.

_'Sneaky motherfucker', she thinks grim._

"I see and hear everything I have to, trust me."

"Where is he? Jason ...", she asks warily.

His answer is expected. "In a place where he belongs to. But he's alive, if that's what you're worrying about."

Of course she is worrying about it and hearing Wesker's words makes her feel even more afraid for him. But there's nothing she can do. At least not right now.

"But never mind", Wesker continues, shoving the subject away. "It's not about nuisances like him right now."

"But how is that possible? I let the virus take over me …" She lets her tongue run over her dry lips, her heart is going at a nervous pace. "I can hardly feel my … other self anymore."

"It may seem this way, but truth is that your humanity is only in a slumber, ready to be awaken again from you. It's a unique gift, I have to say, as I have never experienced anything like this before and who knows what else you'll be capable of one day. You can thank your parents."

"What? Why my parents?" Now her attention is all his.

"Both of them have been carriers of superficial blood."

"Shut the fuck up … my parents were ordinary people."

"Your foster parents, yes. I've done some advanced research concerning your origins this afternoon …"

"What the hell, Wesker!", she shouts upset. "First I'm a cock-sucking whore and now adopted? Thanks a lot for making my life so much easier than it already is."

"They haven't told you?", he asks sympathetic, ignoring her sarcastic tone.

"No!", she exclaims angrily. "I swear, Wesker, if this is another one of your tricks to manipulate me …"

"How am I supposed to manipulate you with information like that? The fact, that you don't share the same bloodline with the people you grew up with, won't change your behavior towards me."

"Weren't my real parents supposed to tell me?", she asks, a shaken tone in her voice. "I can't imagine anyone keeping something that important from their own child."

"Most likely it was to protect you", Wesker muses. "Who knows, maybe your real parents even wanted it that way …"

"What should they have protected me from?"

"The wrong kind of people. People that might be interested in your blood. All you have to understand that being different usually attracts a lot of attention. You can be glad your parents realized that and put you in a safe place so you could be brought up by ordinary people. I wish, my … parents would have done that for me."

She notices how hard it is for him to bring those word over his lips. Until now Wesker never seemed to be a person with a family to her. The imaginative scenarios of him being brought down by aliens or hatching from a dinosaur egg is what usually made her afternoons more pleasant.

"I was born under the same conditions like you. But I never knew my birth mother nor my father. I was given away to an institution and became part of a project named 'The Wesker children'."

"The Wesker children?", she asks cautiously, hoping not to put him off his story. Almost doesn't she dare to breath, as she is more than startled about him sharing a bit of his past with her. But his mind is transfixed on it and so he willingly goes on.

"Yes", he replies. "Thirteen children that were carriers of superficial blood, taken away from their parents. Each of us was infected with the so-called Prototype virus with the goal to create an advanced human race under the constant monitoring and control of Ozwell E. Spencer. Those who were not worthy died after the injection and in the end only two survived. Alex Wesker …"

"And you", she breathes, completely overwhelmed by his words, she isn't able to bring out a tone in her regular voice. "What happened to him? Alex I mean."

Wesker slightly shrugs his shoulders. "That I do not know."

"And Ozwell?"

"I killed him a few years ago", he answers point-blank. "He was a pathetic, old man with an insane god complex, you have to understand."

Nebraska asks herself if this is supposed to be an excuse for having killed another human being. And most of all … isn't Wesker kind of suffering under a god complex himself?

"After getting rid of everyone that stood in his way over the years, he took control over Umbrella Corporation."

"Aren't you in control of Umbrella now?", she asks confused.

"This is not Umbrella", he replies. "It is what I told your boss, yes … but do you really think, I would be so stupid to reveal the real name of my organization to anyone out there?"

For some reason this information doesn't surprise nor bother her. She swallows heavily and knows she should feel anger against him. At least his betrayal goes deeper than she would have ever imagined, but what she detects instead is intense sympathy, sorrow and understanding for his actions. Being brought up like that is more than traumatic and its impact on your future life undeniable. She realizes how lucky she has been to have grown up normally.

Carefully she places her hand on top of his, noticing how cold it is. There's the urge to console him growing inside of her and by telling her that story, she knows that he has finally opened himself up to her. A peek behind his mask. Even his trademark sunglasses aren't covering his eyes right now, which allows her to look into his crimson eyes. In this moonless light they carry the colour of rusty red.

For a moment it seems like Wesker's thoughts are still dangling somewhere in the past, but he acknowledges her touch by pulling his hand away from hers, offering her his palm instead. She grabs for it and their fingers entangle themselves and immediately there's this thrilling electricity again, taking over their bodies.

"It's in your blood too, Nebraska", he continues, eyes set on their touching hands as if he's able to see sparks shooting out of them. "You can call for the virus, but also make it move into background whenever you please. And whatever that mysterious outbreak this afternoon was ..."

Slowly she shakes her head in forced denial. "But I still don't understand … the virus is in control of me now, I can feel it."

"That's because you wanted it that way. You commanded it to take over you … and it did."

A chuckle of disbelief comes out of her. "Does this mean I could whistle it back like a dog any time I want?"

Wesker, as usual not understanding her humorous choice of words, replies: "Pretty much, yes."

"Wow …" Suddenly she feels light-headed and craves a sip of a strong drink. Or maybe two.

"There's so much withheld strength inside of you. I can feel it, when I touch you … even when I'm in your plain presence."

Wesker looks at her intensely, like he is wondering what's going on inside her mind. Her alabaster skin is clearly standing out in the dark of the night and so is the soft glowing of her amber eyes. Feeling uneasy under his watch, she decides to pull her hand out of Wesker's grip and places it on her thigh. But undeniably this short touch between them has heated every cell of her body and her heart is pumping as if she ran a thousand miles. She knows that this is mutual.

"I have more information to share", he breaks the peaceful silence between them.

Scrunching her eyebrows, she says: "Well, it can't get any worse than the fact that I'm adopted. Go ahead."

"The virus you have developed …", he slowly says. "It is the missing puzzle piece to my current project."

Nebraska suddenly understands. "Is that why she was here? This brunette bitch", she concludes quietly and as Wesker doesn't answer. "Of course, she was."

"Join me, Nebraska. Fight for my side and prove your loyalty to your kin", he urges, grabbing for her hand once more. "If I train you, you will be the most powerful woman by my side."

Realising, that this is probably Wesker's way into sweet-talking the women around him into doing what he wants, she shows him an amused half-smile.

"So, this is what this flirty and touchy behavior with Excella was all about, ain't I right?"

To her surprise, he honestly replies. "Indeed. Excella Gionne is the Head of Tricell in Africa. I need her company's help to realize the project. There's no better way into manipulating a woman like her into doing what I want. She's incredibly intelligent, but like every other human weak for flattery."

Nebraska purses her lips. "So, you think, if you smear some honey around my mouth, you can manipulate me into fighting for your side? Hell, I don't even know what it is that you are supposed to fight against. Plus, you seem to have forgotten that I am not like 'every other human'."

The grip of his hand on hers intensifies itself almost to a point where it hurts.

"Don't you want to live in a world, where you know that you're going to be accepted?"

"What do you mean?" But deep inside her mind a gruesome thought is developing itself. Is Wesker thinking of erasing the population on this planet?

"Tell me, Nebraska", he urges once more.

She frowns and while staring at the city lights in the distance, she realizes that she'll never be able to return. She is a carrier now. A creature that is not welcome in civilization.

_Abomination. It's an ugly voice deep inside of her. Its words sound like the hiss of a snake. A poisonous snake encircling her mind, choking any thought of humanity._

There's a sudden boiling anger against humanity coming up inside of her and without looking into his eyes, she whispers: "Yes … yes, I do wish for that."

A shiver runs through her body as she realizes, what kind of wish she just carelessly expressed. Pressing the palm of her hand against her mouth, she utters: "I mean …"

A pleased smile is showing on Wesker's face. "Don't feel ashamed saying things like that. The human species is nothing but poisoning the planet. Population is like a sickness to it. The planned project will change it. It will select, who is worthy of living and most important who is not. The project is still at its early stages. The prototype of the virus isn't even created yet. That's what I'm going to I need your help for."

Not able to bring out another word, she briefly nods. She knows, she should feel disturbed hearing about his doomsday project, but a voice in the deepest part of her body keeps sending her an intense signal of sympathy towards her captor. Realisation digs itself into her tired mind and she doesn't know why, but she would be loyal to him. There is no other choice than accepting the fact that she will remain chained to his side, fighting his war. She can't hate him, even if she tries. She fails miserably. Her virus would remain attached to its counterpart, bending down in pain and sheer pleasure at the same time.

"Excellent", he says and before she can react, he has leaned in to kiss her. Immediately her mind is fogged up with arousal and she allows his touch.

There she is, sitting with one of the cruelest, power-hungriest and most of all inhuman men she has ever met in her life. And she is kissing him under the dim moonlight. Isn't she an equal to him now? At least they share the same blood … the void of physical attraction returns into her body and she can't help but to briefly moan as she allows his tongue to enter her mouth, his hands grab the side of her head and his fingers gently dig themselves in her hair.

"Come with me tonight", he whispers in her ear and caresses the sensitive skin beneath it.

The demand in his voice and the mere fact that he seems to take it for granted that she jumps under his sheets, whenever he pleases, infuriates her and therefore she pushes him away from her.

"You sick fuck!", she curses, yanking her hand free. "Are you suffering under a split personality? Do you remember the words you have said to me today! They were …"

For a brief moment it's like her breath is gone. She swallows, struggling for words. "They were the most painful, I've ever heard in my life."

Wesker's irises are showing a more intense red and he sighs annoyed.

Warily she glares at him for a minute, counting to ten and back to calm her boiling blood.

"Why is it that you can't bring up the decency to use the words 'I'm sorry' to apologize to me?", she asks bitterly.

The strange emotions he has developed for her make a return and to his admittance it wakes something inside of him. The way she fights against him … she might be angry right now, but he knows that she cares about him. Really does. And it wakes something unknown and long forgotten. Human emotions that should have been buried. It makes him feel, she makes him feel. It's more than just plain lust between them, it's something more and so the following words are worth saying. Removing his left glove he lays his fingers under her chin.

His face is serious, full of controlled anger and his mouth a grim line. "I'm … sorry … to have hurt you."

The way he has forced those words out … almost as if they were a foreign, difficult language to spell out, awake the urge to laugh out loud inside of her, but fortunately she can pull herself together. At least one of the supposedly most emotionless men on this planet just bowed to her wish.

"Please forgive me my fault", he adds, an even more untypical tone in his voice.

"Your wish shall be granted", she replies softly. "But I'm still not coming with you. Much has been said tonight, Wesker. Too much … I need some time to let it sack. Alone."

Showing him an apologetic smile, she pulls her knees towards her chest so that the hem of her skirt slips up, showing him a lot of her bare legs. Just what she had aimed for. She notices the tenseness in Wesker's jaw and with delight she places her before hanging feet back on solid ground.

From behind she lays her arms around him, brushing his chest with the palm of her hand.

"Good night, Wesker", she says quietly into his ear and then turns around to wander towards the exit, but Wesker grabs for her under arms to prevent her from going yet.

"I wasn't finished."

Getting up, he turns himself towards her and presses her body flush against his. One thing that she should have learned during those months living down here is that Wesker never takes a 'no'. He is used to have it his way and when he wants something, he gets it, no matter how. Therefore she isn't surprised that he is holding her back and she eyes him with a little bit of suspicion, but most of all burning anticipation.

"You're coming with me", he repeats once more, his stare dark and needy. "I'll give you a reason why.

"Then tell me why."

"While I was in the meeting with Excella before, I encountered something rather strange and unusual for someone like me. I couldn't focus on anything that she said. You were all I could think of. Literally all. And I swear the moment you walked in was like …" He fails to find the right words. "If she wouldn't have been there, you can't even imagine what I would've done with you."

She lustfully draws her breath in and closes her eyes, enjoying the soft din of his voice and the meaning of his words.

"I don't understand this witchery you've created", he continues. "Nor do I understand what's it doing to us, but there's one thing I'm certain of … I want you."

Overwhelmed she looks at him, putting the palm of her hand against his cheek. She can feel deep within her core that she shouldn't trust him. Why would he say such emotional things to her after a night that consisted of nothing but sating each others lust? Was it in the end still more than that? She knows, she will never regret to have slept with him nor will she regret it after this night. But more and more she feels like a puppet that he is training to fulfill his own purposes. And she can't help, but to sink into this black void that he is pulling her into, because never has anything felt so good.

"Screw it", she smiles and guides his face towards hers to kiss him. "I can also let it sack, while laying in your bed." And before their lips meet, she adds: "Show me what you would've done with me if the Russian bitch wouldn't have been there."

"Italian", he counters, briefly brushing her lips with his. "The bitch is Italian."

* * *

He takes her into his room. It is dark, but there is no need for them to turn the lights on. With their mutated eyes, they can see each other without fail. She looks at him under black, long lashes.

"And what now?", she asks unnecessarily, trying hard to not let her voice tremble.

He doesn't answer and brusquely turns her around, so that her back is pressed against his frontside and a needy sigh, that she wishes she could take back, escapes her throat as she can feel his growing bulge pressed against the small of her back. Gently he strokes her hair aside, revealing her neck, breathing her scent in. One of his toned arms embraces her upper body around the waist and the incredible heat that she tried to wash away with water this morning is returning with an almost unbearable intensity.

"We're going to take it slow tonight", he says right into her ear. "Very slow."

A shiver of lust and admittedly impatience crawls over her spine as his hand wanders southwards to lift the hem of her skirt up, to get in touch with the soft skin at the outside of her thigh. This is going to be their first night as equals - the lack of understanding of those around him and the failure to see who he truly is has driven him into her arms. It isn't only her who doesn't want to be alone tonight. He is yearning for someone to share equality with. And that someone is her - or at least the creature he has turned her into. Truth is that she has already fallen for him, when she was plain human. Or at least a superficial version of a human. She saw something in him that no-one else did. But he never gave her the chance to experience him this way. Annoyed about thinking about so many things that shouldn't be in her mind right now, she turns herself around to kiss him. She needs distraction.

Both of their heartbeats accelerate themselves under the power of the two viruses awakening together and with the fingers of one of her hands she blindly grabs for the buttons of his shirt to undo them with slow, delicate movements. Why should she brood over the past anyway in this very moment? All day she has wished for nothing but to sink into his embrace again, to become one with him.

As he is topless in front of her, her hands slowly stroke over his strong chest, his incredibly trained abs, his flat abdomen and she can't help but to think once more how surreal he is. How perfect. Wanting her close their lips meet once more, deepening their caressing as he opens the zipper of her dress at the back. The dark cloth slides over her shoulders, over her arms and then down to her ankles to land on the floor like a puffy cloud. Goosebumps crawl over her naked shoulders and back.

As they have stripped each other down to their undergarments, he guides her towards his bed and as the backside of her legs brush against it, she lets herself fall onto the surprisingly comfortable mattress. The sheets are cold, but smell like home to her. As soon as he has followed her example and joined her on the kingsize bed, it's like the tension between them turns into a storm of uncontrollable desire.

She finds herself in his welcome embrace as he pulls her up into a sitting position, putting her on top of his lap. She clings to his burly upper arms and bends her head back in awe as his lips find the sensitive skin of her throat, gently kissing it. It's like offering her most vulnerable part to him.

He grabs for her ass, groping it tightly and feeling how hard he is against her soaking midst once more causes a quiet sound of impatience coming from her.

"I want you so bad", she breathes against his mouth and fingers for the desired object. For a moment his breath hitches as she slowly she lets her hand run along all of its length, pulling him out of the hindering fabric.

In return he frees her from her black bra and without even worrying about a reply he pushes her on her back and lets his weight drop onto her throbbing womanhood. She moans and digs her fingers in his always so tamed hair. He peels her out of her underwear and out of his own and after those last pieces of clothing have finally met the surface of the ground next to them her heavy panting is getting uncontrollable in anticipation.

Laying gloriously naked under him her belly moves up and down from the deep, impatient breaths she is taking. Their warm bodies are slightly grinding against each other as they lose themselves in another seductive kiss. It makes her feel like an impatient cat. She tries to prop herself up on her elbows so she can explore the muscular surface of his upper body with her mouth, to give him something in return, but somehow he is not letting her. She can't do nothing but accept the fact of having all of his attention tonight. All of his control. If it's his way of apologizing his rude behavior, she can't tell. But it's happening with a lot more respect and therefore she hasn't any demurs against it.

"Ooh …", she exclaims in a long breath, her skin growing hotter as he finally guides every single inch of him inside of her. Thrusting once, twice after slowly retracting, she shuts her eyes tightly in complete fulfillment of his thickness.

For a spell her mind wanders back to the first time they had each other and how it turned into a childish fight of domination. Ashamed she pushes those thoughts aside, focusing on the here and now.

Without tiring he pushes into her, whispering her name and slowly a tense feeling that begs for a release is building itself up inside of her. But the pace at which he is taking her is slow. Finding it rather unfair how much he is teasing her she impatiently adjusts her hips so he can meet her at a different angle. She can feel his lips curling into a slight smile against her skin as he reads the signs of her restless shifting under him.

"Patience", he purrs and unbelievably controlling his own lust, he keeps doing her for what feels like hours until he finally gives her what she wants. They both groan as he takes her harder and in less than seven strokes he can already feel her deliciously tightening on him as she comes.

She digs her teeth deeply into her bottom lip and lets out a sigh that slowly turns into a cry of pleasure as her first ever orgasm that she can share with him, races through her, draining her from any bit of strength that she has tried to keep up. She would have never thought such breath-taking waves of release even existed and he lets her have to its full extent before finding the warm flood of his own release inside of her. He collapses on top of her, kissing her deeply, still inside of her and they both appreciate every single bit of this moment that they are sharing before departing from each other.

She wishes, she could have said something, but it feels wrong destroying a moment like this. Any spoken syllable would be too much. So she places her head on top of his still very warm chest, his fingers absentminded stroke through her hair and for a brief moment, she wonders if he will really let her stay tonight or if she will land in front of his door? But her paranoid thoughts are soon becoming a blur and the last thing she can remember is him covering her up, before she drifts into a peaceful slumber.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Antarctic Base

**Chapter 4 - The Antarctic Base**

**Note from the author:**

_Time for Jill Valentine to be added to the story._

_Rated M for swear words and descriptive sex._

_I hope you will enjoy! Don't forget to review, if you have any kind of feedback. Thanks :-)_

* * *

_**Why should I stay here?**_

_**Why should I stay?**_

_**I'd be crazy not to follow**_

_**Follow where you lead**_

_**Your eyes**_

_**They turn me**_

_**Yeah, everybody leaves if they get the chance**_

_**And this is my chance.**_

_Radiohead, Weird Fishes/Arpeggi, In Rainbows_

* * *

Nebraska's body is entangled in comfortable sheets and the thought of ever leaving this bed comes unwelcome into her mind. At closer inspection of her bodily state she has to admit though that she's in need of a shower and most of all she has an empty stomach and craves for breakfast. As she stretches herself, she notices the empty spot next to her and somehow isn't surprised about Wesker being absent already.

For a few minutes she enjoys having all of the bed to herself and with a flush of contentment she recalls their passionate night before struggling herself up into a sitting position. Immediately any drowsiness is gone as she sees a mysterious white cardboard box at the end of the bed that definitely wasn't here yesterday. Quickly she shoves the sheets off her body but decides to wrap them around herself instead as being naked suddenly awakes a feeling of self-consciousness. On her knees she approaches the object. It's decorated with a red bow and an envelope is stuck under it. Taken by curiosity she pulls the square object out and rips it open, unfolding the card that it contains. The text on it is written in black ink, the letters quite elegant and neat. Without the shadow of a doubt she can tell that it is Wesker's handwriting.

_A new life, a new wardrobe? Meet me on the roof when you're ready. I'd be pleasured seeing you in this._

Nebraska can't help but to smile and wondering what there is going to be inside, she quickly undoes the bow and shoves the top of the box away. What comes to light puts an expression of sheer doubt on her face. It's something black. And it's something that seems to be more than tight.

"What the fuck, Wesker?", she mutters as she unfolds the material and categorizes it as a catsuit.

But at closer inspection it turns out to be something more than that - it's some kind of one-piece battle suit. Or at least this is what she assumes it to be. She takes a peek down to her body under the sheets and at the small size of the suit, asking herself if she should really do that. Is she his Barbie doll now, or what? Does he suddenly have the need not only to sleep with her but also to dress her? Thinking back though to how perfect their last night was and how much he gave her, she decides to at least give him this pleasure today.

Before doing this to herself, she decides to hop under his shower to shoo any remaining spirits of laziness away. As she is done, she dubiously glares at the suit once more for a few minutes, just to give in with a sigh. With unexpected ease she dresses herself in the dark attire, noticing how thick yet flexible the material is. There's an almost invisible pattern of light grey rectangles on it, probably for camouflage effects. Fitting to her wardrobe she finds a pair of black leather gloves and high-heeled combat boots that she quickly puts on.

Expecting to get a shocking sight she steps in front of the mirror and throws at a glance at the stranger's reflection in it. She swallows heavily, realizing that it has been ages since she has truly seen herself. The suit snuggles up against her curves, pushes her breasts up and perfectly accents her butt. It pretty much leaves nothing to the imagination anymore as she concludes.

_'You're going to pay for that'_, she thinks before leaving his quarters towards their rendezvous point.

* * *

As she steps on the roof, she briefly has to squint her eyes as unexpected bright sunlight is domineering the day. Wesker is standing at the far end of the roof, his back is turned towards her, but with his sensitive hearing he catches her silent steps.

"No comment about the suit, Wesker! I don't want to hear a single word about it!", she shouts and quickly steps towards him.

He is wearing a skin-tight jacket and trousers that are made of the same pattern like her battle suit. Showing her a half-smile, she knows exactly that his eyes are appreciatively scanning every part of her body right now. Even though he is wearing sunglasses, she doesn't have to be a genius to figure that out. It's that unnerving smirk on his face. Despite the fact of having been naked in his arms for several hours last night, there's a feeling of uneasiness inside of her and she crosses her arms before her quite revealing cleavage.

"Why the hell is there a helicopter standing here?", she asks dumbfounded.

"We're going away. Take off is in fifteen minutes. I'm glad you came in time, otherwise I would've dragged you out of bed. You have quite a deep sleep. Like a stone."

"Whoa, whoa … slow down, man", she utters confused. "Going away? Where to?"

"Antarctica", he answers as unimpressed as if it were only a mile away.

"Ant-" She finds that she can't speak anymore. Her lips are closing and opening themselves like a fish at dry land.

"You're going to need that." Wesker throws a dark, hooded cloak towards her and she catches it rather clumsily, before pressing it against her chest.

After this action she finally finds her voice again: "So, we're leaving in fifteen minutes to a place that is like two or even three hundred air miles away from here and you don't find it necessary to fucking tell me that in advance!"

"I assumed, you would be pleased to finally get away from here", Wesker counters while throwing several wrapped up things and a small box inside the vehicle.

"Well … yes, of course I'm glad to get away from here. It's just so … unprepared. What about my stuff?"

"It's not unprepared at all. All necessary steps have been taken" And before she can interrupt him again. "That also includes your stuff."

The word 'stuff' he spits out rather annoyed, putting special pronunciation on the 'f' at the end. There is no sign of the caring man that he was last night and admittedly he frightens her a little bit. Seeing the worried look on her face, he takes a step towards her and brushes her cheek with his hand. But there's no trace of love or consolation in it.

"Your work on the virus will start as soon as we get there."

"Mhm", she murmurs and can't help but to let her thoughts drift to what she is going to do with him during the long and cold nights in Antarctica.

"Don't even think about it", Wesker interrupts her little daydream. "We're going to work. Time is precious these days and it won't automatically stand still when I pleasure myself in bed with you. There are more important things that deserve our focus right now."

She knits her eyebrows in a frown. Why the hell is he acting like last night never happened? One moment he swears his undying desire to her and the next he acts as if none of it has ever happened. He's like a cheetah, she realises. Resting for a little while, his mind focused on the things he temporarily wants just to suddenly race away from her, gaining as much distance as possible. It's hard to keep up with him.

"More imp-" For the second time her voice is gone, but this time because of the pain that takes over her heart. Why is he so cruel? Suddenly she feels stupid for having even allowed last night. How much wiser would it have been to just leave him standing on top of the roof and go to her room instead. Only that being wise nor logical thinking aren't supported by her virus anymore. Once again it has lured her into his arms and once again it has made her bending herself to his will and his power. Her cheeks flush in anger, shame and most of all weakness.

"Nebraska" His voice is soft, his hands enfolding her upper arms. "You know, I didn't mean it like that. It's just … our schedule is tight. In a few days, we'll have to embark on a journey to South Africa. Our final destination for preparing our vision."

Nebraska can feel a shiver run over her skin despite the fact that the day is quite warm. 'Our vision' … hearing those words makes her realize what she has agreed to become a part with. He truly has consumed every single part of her body and mind just like that goddamn project has taken over his.

"I got it just fine, don't worry", she says bitterly, freeing herself from his gentle grip to quick turn around and step away from him in the opposite direction.

"Where the hell do you think you're going? Get in the chopper", he commands.

"I'm going to get something to eat, if that is allowed, my master", she snaps sarcastically while swooshing away. "I'm fucking starving."

* * *

The black chopper lands many hours later in a vast land of eternal snow. The pair, completely dressed in black, stands out like two shadows.

"May I?", Wesker asks and offers Nebraska his hand to help her out from the helicopter.

Suspiciously she looks at his outstretched hand which seems to be the first approach of gaining her affection back. It's been a long flight and even though she's exhausted from it, she can still bring up the strength to be mad at him. But tired of running the risk to cause another fight over such a small thing, she decides to grab for it.

"Thanks", she murmurs and immediately lets off it after her black boots have touched the icy ground.

She squints her eyes as the merciless Antarctic breeze crashes against her face, pushing several strands of her hair across her face, shortly robbing her sight. She strokes it back and tugs it under the thick hood of the coat that Wesker has given her. The midnight sun is burning down from a clear, blue sky and when she exhales the air turns into little white clouds. Wesker on the other hand doesn't seem to be impressed by the cold at the slightest as he shows no reaction to the freezing temperature. It doesn't surprise her though. At least he's not human anymore.

"Where are we going?", she asks doubtful as she looks straight ahead and sees nothing but seemingly endless surfaces of snow.

"You'll see soon enough", he answers, adjusting the hood over his head aswell.

His tone is as cold as the air but she can see that a half-smile is playing around the corner of his mouth. A tense excitement suddenly fills her stomach.

"Come on", he commands and steps away from the chopper towards North, where a gathering of snow covered hills can be seen.

Her black combat boots step onto the frozen snow and it slightly crackles under them as they proceed together over the flat, powdery surface. The march feels like an eternity and Nebraska asks herself why he had to land the chopper that far away from the actual destination. Just as she's on the verge of getting annoyed with him once more, they reach the top of a hill. They come to a stop and astonished she realises that in between these majestically built mountains is something like a secret quarter. The building is about the size of an average house and has been covered with a metallic material. The surfaces are perfectly flat and covered in snow and ice, which almost camouflages the walls with the icy rock behind it. From the outside it seems like nothing special. There are no windows, no towers or other things that usually make a house look fascinating or maybe even intimidating. It looks harmless. It could have been a simple scientific research station where records from glaciers are being held. Nebraska knows that this was exactly what Wesker has been aiming for. And knowing him, these walls are only the tip of the iceberg - literally. They are probably nothing but the entrance to a secret elevator that leads far, far down into earth … or ice in this case.

"Wow", she breathes, forgetting about any bad emotion she has felt towards him before. "This is where we're going?"

"Welcome to the Antarctic Base", he says over the howling wind, an unnerving smirk on his face.

Once more he stretches his black gloved hand towards her motionless body and this time she doesn't hesitate. She grabs for it and tightly holds on as he takes her down the hillside.

* * *

The inside of the hut looks like it hasn't experienced any human care in a decade. There's an old wooden desk leaned against the left-hand wall, several broken chairs are scattered around the room and the windows aren't very see-through anymore . All is covered in dust and cobwebs and Nebraska can't help to wrinkle up her nose from the intense smell that wood gets when it's constantly wet for a long time.

"It's just a cover-up", Wesker murmurs and determined steps towards an antique closet in the far left corner.

"I assumed that", she comments in return, smiling weakly.

Behinds its doors is what finally makes her imaginations about this place become reality. There's a stainless steel door built inside the wall. Next to it is a numeric key pad. Too quick for her sight Wesker punches in what sounds like a 8-digit code and after hearing a low beeping sound, she knows that their access has been granted. Together they step inside the elevator that is located right behind the door.

"Holy shit!" She can't hold that exclamation in as they reach their actual destination after a seemingly endless ride down. She shoves the hood off her head, causing lots of little snowflakes that have been caught in the fabric to rain down on the floor. Her stature gets bathed in bright, white light as she slowly steps down the corridor that is built of milky glass.

"What on Earth is this place?", she asks intrigued by the futuristic design of the facility.

"I know we could've worked on the virus from pretty much any laboratory. But the reason why we came here is a person."

"A person?" Surprised to hear that there seem to be other people down here, she briefly looks around the area. To her it looks like this place is deserted. There's no sound of life down here.

"Someone who is the the carrier of the last piece that we need in order to develop the virus." A cold smile shows at the corner of his mouth. "Her name is Jill Valentine."

* * *

She follows him down the corridor, to the left and then straight ahead once more until they reach a room that makes her jaw drop open in disbelief. The room seems ordinary at first sight. There's a computer system, some probably non-functioning monitors attached to the right-hand wall and several locked cabinets. But this is not what catches her attention. It's four white contraptions that are lined along the left-hand wall. While she's busy staring at the several pods, Wesker is starting up the computer system that is standing in the centre of the room. She has to admit that these contraptions remind her of coffins. And although everything is white, clean and sterile, it's like standing inside a chamber. She steps towards one of the pods and tries to get a glimpse through the dark glass. Shocked she stumbles a few step backwards as she recognizes a human face behind it. Goosebumps crawl over her skin.

"There … there are humans in there?" She inhales in hope to get rid of a sudden sick feeling in her stomach. "Wesker! There are fucking humans in there! What have you done to them?"

"Meet Jill Valentine", Wesker announces, ignoring her accusing question as one of the white pods makes a hissy sound and then slowly opens itself causing a flood of a clear fluid pouring out over the floor. Nebraska is sure that this isn't just plain water as there's a whiff of a chemical smell itching her nostrils.

Her heart starts pounding in anticipation and fear as her eyes wander from watching the substance on the floor to the naked woman inside the pod. She is tall, but still a few inches smaller than Nebraska herself. Her skin is pale like milk and seems almost see-through. But big parts of her light skin are covered in dark, purple bruises. Her eyes are closed and wet strands of her fair hair are stuck to her angled cheekbones

"What have you done to her?", Nebraska says breathless, feeling unexplainable sorrow insider her heart.

Ignoring her demanding for answers once more he makes himself busy taking her body in his arms. That slight sting of jealousy she already felt when she saw him confidentially sitting together with Excella returns in her heart.

"There is something inside her body that we need in order to create the desired virus."

"Inside of her?", she replies while warily watching where Wesker's hands on the woman's naked body are being placed.

"Get the blanket inside the bag I have brought, will you please, Nebraska?", he requests, his voice cold and controlled.

Nebraska frowns, asking herself how much arousal of having this naked woman in his arms he is hiding with that tone. But she knows that she is nothing but overreacting again. There are other things on his mind right now, like that 'essence' that seems to be inside her body. It is easy for him to separate work from pleasure. She envies him for that. No matter what she looks at, no matter what she touches, he is always on her mind. Always.

"Where are we going to take her?", Nebraska asks, handing him the thick, white blanket.

"The laboratory next door, of course." Carefully he wraps the woman named Jill Valentine in the fabric and then takes her in his arms. Her head falls backwards over the curve of his strong underarms, revealing her white swan-like neck.

"She's not dead, is she?"

"No, she's in a state of cryogenic sleep."

"Why was she in that fluid? How could she even breath in there?"

"One step after the other", he replies exhausted. "I've got no time to answer your questions now. Also, there's a difference between being curious and just plain nosy."

She huffs, narrowing her eyes at him. "And there's no difference between being an asshole and a jerk."

* * *

The laboratory turns out to be similar looking like the room they were in before. Only that the pods are being replaced by several floor to ceiling glass tubes that contain strange looking flowers. She closely leans towards one of them and takes a look at its dark red petals.

"What the hell are these?", she asks frowning. At some point he has to reply to one of her questions, right? "I have a feeling they're not for decoration … or romantic purposes."

After placing Jill's limp body on the examination table in the middle, he eventually chuckles. "They are the base of every single virus Umbrella has ever created. The plant has its roots in ancient West African cultures. The flower is highly poisonous and they believed that everyone who survived consuming it had the right to be their king. 'Stairway of the sun' … that is their name."

"Stairway of the sun", she repeats quietly, like it's a prayer. The researcher inside of her is suddenly back and intrigued she listens to his words. "Are we going to work with them?"

"Yes."

"To create what exactly?"

"The Progenitor virus …" He sighs. "Instead of asking questions like a child all the time, we could be working right now. We both know that you're not in need of details. You're a smart woman, dear."

She turns around, a brief, almost sad smile on her face. "Rumor has it."

* * *

_The needle that is being inserted inside her arm breaks through the fog of unconsciousness. It burns even more than this dark reality she is trapped in. The air streaming into her nostrils is thin and cold, nothing in comparison to the warm water that was pumping through her lungs before. The feeling of drowning in a warm bath is gone. If only it would have killed her. There are faint voices rushing through her brain, subdued noises, a language she's not capable of understanding. Hands are working on her body. But these hands are unfamiliar. They're not rough and brutal like the ones she has felt many times on her before. They feel gentle. Her lips part themselves slightly._

"Chris?", she breathes, her throat struggling those words out like a knife would be cutting her insides.

Nebraska's eyes shoot open in surprise and as she staggers a step backwards, she almost lets the blood sample she just took fall to the ground.

"Chris", Jill whispers once more, before her head lumps sideways to land with a thud on the metallic surface of the examination table.

"Wesker …", Nebraska utters in a panicking voice. "I think, she's waking up."

"It's about time." His voice behind her. He was here faster than she thought. Stepping to Jill's side he reaches for her chin with his gloved hand and props it up. Her eyelids flutter as he strokes a few strands of her blonde hair aside to get a look on her pale face.

Jill Valentine. In his hands. His lips twitch in amusement as he moves another needle to the side of her neck, shooting a red fluid inside of it. For a few seconds she lies still, breathing evenly. Nebraska's breath hitches and fear rushes through her weak limbs, as Jill's body reacts to the substance in spasms. Her eyes fly open, but she can see nothing but white in them as her back and hips buck upwards. The attack doesn't last longer than twenty seconds, but it's enough to make her heart race.

"What the hell did you just inject?", she shouts, her breath escaping in pants. "You're fucking sick!"

"P30. Go and work on the virus", he answers unimpressed.

Without even questioning the meaning of this she turns herself away from him to get to the only distraction she can get down here. Work.

* * *

This woman. Jill Valentine. She doesn't go out of her head anymore. The look in Wesker's eyes when he injects her with that fluid and watches her body bend in pain - nothing but pure pleasure. Every single day it is the same procedure. He thrusts that needle inside her neck, watches her struggles against it, before putting her back in that strange, chemical fluid. And who knows what else he's doing to her, when she's not in his presence. Every day the bruises seem to get worse.

His eyes … yes, she can see something in them that makes her stomach revolt.

Four days have passed since they have arrived here in the Antarctic Base and her work on the virus is going fortunately flawless until now. But the white of Jill's eyes, the screams of pains, her bruised, naked body floating inside that pod … they don't only haunt her while lying in bed at night, but also her dreams. What the hell is Wesker's purpose with her? Why didn't he kill her after they got their sample of the T-virus antibodies? Why does he keep injecting her with that drug he calls 'P30'?

Something tells her, that she isn't just some random, kidnapped woman to him. They have a story together. A past. As she knows Wesker it probably won't be a fairy tale but something much darker.

Right now she is quitting work in the laboratory for today. She knows that Wesker will follow a few hours later as he doesn't require the same amount of sleep that she does. That'll change though, as soon as her virus would have reached the peak of its development. But before she's able to at least fall into a slumber, she has to pose the question that is burning inside of her all day already.

"She's of special meaning to you, isn't she?" Her back is turned towards him as she covers the petri dish in front of her with a thick cloth. She doesn't dare to turn around. The last few days she can't look into his eyes anymore without squirming in fear. Without seeing that pervert look of possession and control over this woman in them. But this is only her human side. Her virus can't help but to create that unnerving feeling of jealousy inside of her. Wesker hasn't touched her for days. His mind focused on nothing else but that woman.

Wesker hesitates to answer her at first, but reconsidering the fact that he has already shared quite a bit of his past with her, it wouldn't hurt to go more into detail.

"Do you remember how I mentioned killing Ozwell?"

She swallows. How could she forget that?

"Yes", she answers, feeling how tense her body is.

"Jill and her former partner Chris Redfield pretty much caught me red-handed."

"So, she's a witness?"

"More or less. They both wanted my head." To her surprise he chuckles quietly. "They attempted to kill me that day. But of course their ridiculous attacks were no match to mine."

"What happened that she ended up here? And where is Chris? Is he … dead?"

There's a long silence between them and she can sense his anger. "I do wish for that", he says darkly. "But no … I was about to blow my final strike on him when Jill … she stupidly sacrificed herself for his life by crashing us out of the window. We took quite a long drop to say at the least. I treated her severe wounds. Before I went to take on work in America, I spent several years in this facility. I've fixed her."

"And Chris?"

"Go to sleep now, Nebraska. There's nothing more to say tonight", he abruptly closes the story as it reaches chapter 'Chris Redfield'. Something tells her that he isn't on Wesker's 'best friends' list.

For a moment it's quiet in the room and Wesker hopes to have finally satisfied her need for information. But still this woman doesn't go out of her head. The silence gets interrupted by the crackling noise of a zipper being undone which causes him to slowly turn around. The frontside of her suit has been opened to reveal half of her breasts and a trail of ivory naked skin down to her navel. She doesn't know why she's doing this nor where this sudden longing for him comes from, but it needed out. Maybe it would finally turn back into the man that he was before they arrived here, snap him back to reality.

"I don't want to sleep. There's something else my body requires", she says, completely freeing herself from the tight attire and then slowly paces towards him.

Wesker sighs, his jaw working in disapproval. "Nebraska, I-"

"What, Wesker? What? Why is it that we only have sex when you want it? Don't you desire me anymore?"

"It's not like that, Nebraska."

"It's not like what?", she asks hurt. "It's her, isn't it? Jill …"

"Oh god …", he mutters under his breath. "Do you think it isn't hard for me too?"

The warmth of his body is eating its way to her own flesh, heating her cells up. Her gaze is pointed towards the floor, her lashes throwing long, dark shadows under her tired eyes. She didn't even know, there was still a place in his mind for her.

"Do you know how hard it is for me to not be able to do this …" His fingertips run along the curve of her spine and instantly her skin tingles. "Do you know how hard it is to not be inside of you every night?"

She closes her eyes and leans her forehead against his chest as he lays his protective arms around her. Physical exhaustion makes her silently soak in air as her vision gets blurred by unwelcome tears.

"It's hard. Very hard, dear. But we'll have to get through this before we can have each other again."

"Why are you refusing a bit of pleasure so much?", she asks quietly. "I need you, Wesker. I need you so much. My body aches for you … I'm trying to fight it, but I think it will never stop. This longing for you inside of me … you don't even understand."

He puts a finger under her chin and props it up so she can meet his cat-like gaze. She can feel the rough texture of his leather glove as he wipes a single tear on her cheek away and she tries hard to not think of how ungentle these hands have been to Jill.

"You don't understand either", he answers with controlled anger. Anger against himself. "You're making me weak and … human. I can feel my fucking heart in your presence. It's all things I don't need right now. All I'm asking from you is to let me focus on this one goal of my life."

"Please", she begs in a whisper, curling the tips of her fingers around the tight fabric of his shirt, palpating his strong muscles below it.

"Please." Standing on the tip of her toes she slightly stretches herself to assault the skin of his neck with sucking and biting until her lips greedily land upon his.

"Please." Her voice in his ears, sweet and seductive in their din. Her fingers, experienced and fast, undoing the zipper of his trousers. She digs her hips towards his until she can feel him undeniably getting hard against her own groin. She lays the palm of her hand against his growing erection and moans into his lips as he finally loosens up under a grown of capitulation and grabs for the part of her legs just below the ass to slam her back against the cabinet at the wall. The thud reverberates through her bones.

"Please", she sighs desperately for one last time, before all words leave her and her throat can't do anything else anymore, but produce ecstatic moans as he pushes his solid member inside her sweet wetness with one swift move. She's so turned on that not ten seconds after him entering her, she already starts to climax, the waves of release going through her body in racking spasms. He can feel her ragged breath against his shoulder slowly turning into dramatic panting as she tightly grabs his strong shoulders. He presses her tightly against him as after a few more powerful thrusts he comes himself. Gathering their breaths, they hold each other for a minute until she can hear his dark voice dragging her back to reality.

"Go. Now."

There's a sudden and scaring tenseness in his voice and body. She knows that he is angry at himself and mainly angry at her for causing him to lose control, to distract him from things that are more important than becoming one with her body. A rush of guilt fills her heart and not daring to look him into the eye, she lets him put her back on the ground, her knees almost not supporting her weight as she walks off towards their dormitory. It was selfish and stupid to seduce him like that, she knows it. But it was like she said, she needed him. Needed him to confirm the fact that there is no-one else but her and that he would never, never throw her heart away and bruise her the same way he did Jill Valentine. The woman that will never leave her dreams.


	5. Chapter 5 - Unholy War

**CHAPTER 5 - Unholy War**

_****_**Note from the author:  
Rated M for descriptive sex and swear words.**

* * *

_**You've been gone so long, I can't feel you**_

_**And your hand on my heart beating true**_

_**Did you think I'd live without you?**_

_**You belonged to me.**_

_**I miss your face**_

_**I lost my place**_

_**I lost my faith.**_

_Drop Dead Gorgeous, Fashion Your Seatbelts, In Vogue_

_**I can't go on living this way.**_

_Papa Roach, Last Resort_

* * *

**The Base, Antarctica**

Light blue eyes are transfixed on merciless facial features. They used to be full of life, dazzling with intelligence and beauty. Now they are empty and soulless.

"_Jill_."

There's a jerk going through her body as she reacts to her name and she straightens herself up on the chair that she has been placed upon. For a moment he can see it on her face - the strong, internal fight against the device he has attached on her yesterday. A nasty thing shaped like a scarab with six metallic feet digging themselves into the thin skin next to her breastbone. She screamed in agony as her flesh was united with its tiny claws. Now it injects her every six hours with the serum that he names P30. She quietly groans and as always the drug wins and she can do nothing but obey. The words crawl over her lips like cold ghost fingers.

"Yes … master …"

A disgusting taste covers her mouth and she wishes, she could vomit. Just do anything to be freed from his torture. In her brain she tries to recall the memories and pictures of the people she loves, the people she is supposed to belong to. It's not working. There's nothing but white noise in her ears and black fog in her mind. Eyes half squinted in pain she can see him stepping towards her and there's revolt going through her body as he lays a gloved hand under her chin, his thumb ungently pressing against it.

"You're under my command. You will do as I tell you. You will not fail me." His mouth is a grim line and his grip intensifies itself. His words are digging itself into her exhausted mind and she feels like she's being programmed. Like a heartless manufactured robot. And the worst part is that it is working.

"You're' mine, Jill Valentine. Mine."

There's a single tear running down her cheek as he undoes the straps of her thin laboratory gown.

* * *

**New York, United States of America**

_Three years … three years of sunshine, of rain, of pain and misery, of accidents, fire and storms. Seven years of incidents that tell him that the world keeps on turning no matter what. It spits at him, mocks him, makes him feel unimportant and small. Because for him … for him there is nothing anymore._

Three years have passed since the incident and he still sees her falling into darkness.

Chris Redfield wakes up from another haunting dream and it takes him a moment to realize where exactly he is. His bedroom is already soaked in bright sunlight and the digits on the display of the clock next to him tell him that it is 8:37 a.m. With a sigh he lets his head drop back onto the cushion and buries his face behind his hands to momentarily escape from reality and gather his senses. Behind the darkness of his hands he tries to recall the last bits of his dream. There are no clear images anymore, only fragments, but he knows that she was in it. Jill.

Over the last years he has tried to subdue the feelings of guilt and of having failed her, trying to live a life without his partner by his side - nothing has been able to fill that hole inside of him. How he has missed so many chances to take her in his arms, how he could never tell her that he's in love with her. He had tried to distract himself with other women, it's not like he has been holy - but none of it ever lasted more than a few nights and it would always be her his thoughts returned to. He knows that she would have made him feel complete. They shared so many intense and dangerous moments together and they have seen things that no other person would ever be able to comprehend.

Almost every day he stands at the grave that the BSAA had paid for. Weekly he puts fresh flowers on the ground, but never does he speak to the cold, grey stone that has her name engraved into it. Because something tells him that she's not dead. Why the BSAA never put any effort into looking for her, fills his head with questions that will never be answered. The organization seems to put their focus on other goals. This is why he has decided to take a different path three years ago. No matter how they have tried to convince him to stay, he decided to call this chapter quit. He knows that it must have hurt them to lose one of their best men, but nobody seemed to have cared about his internal pain either.

The sound of his door bell going off rips him out of his deep thoughts and he shoots up into a sitting position, throwing the warm sheets off his body.

"Oh shit", he curses as he realizes that he completely forgot about his sister Claire coming over for breakfast at nine. She pretty much invited herself.

He dashes out of bed and hastily dresses himself with the next best shirt and trousers he can find in the mess of his room. It's been a few weeks since he had put any effort in thoroughly cleaning his apartment. It's second priority to him anyway - his mind is preoccupied with more important things.

As he half stumbles towards the door he tries to rub the last bit of sleep out of his eyes and he decides he won't even bother about his hair. Claire isn't one to fool anyway. She will immediately be able to tell that he's not well-rested at all. It's not just that anyway. The years of grief of misery have drawn shadows on his face, turned his skin pale and his eyes tired.

"You look awful, brother", Claire greets Chris as expected after he opened the door.

Her eyes quickly scan his not very well put together outfit but she's kind enough to not make any remarks about that. Instead she shows him a smile as sweet as sugar and pecks his stubbly cheek.

"Good morning to you too", he grumbles as friendly as he can and tousles her long dark-brown hair before inviting her inside his apartment with a gesture of his hand.

She runs her fingers over her head to tidy the mess and giggles. "Stop doing that."

"Or what? Will you bite me?", he says with a smirk and lays a friendly arm around her petite frame to lead her into the kitchen. Claire exclaims a curse as she stumbles over a single shoe that is lying in the middle of the corridor.

"You know that there is something called cleaning, don't you?", she says, pursing her lips.

Chris dismissively waves his hand. "I'll do it later."

Knowing that 'later' means 'sometime in the next two years' in Chris' dictionary, she decides to drop the subject. After they have taken seat at the kitchen table she briefly grabs for his hand, a more serious look on her face. "Chris, are you alright? You know, you can talk to me."

"Had a rough night, that's all." He's not in the mood for Claire's personal questions right now. "Coffee?"

But as usual she's as hard to distract as a cat skulking in front of a mouse hole. "Yes to the coffee and … you were thinking of Jill again, weren't you?"

She can see a mere shadow wander over his pale face before he turns his back to her to operate the coffee machine.

"It wasn't your fault", she says over the hissing sound of the machine. Somehow she knows that it won't bring any comfort.

"I know that", he answers stiffly and puts the now filled cup in front of her on the table.

Claire softly blows over the surface of the hot beverage before taking a careful sip. The fact that Chris is getting more and more trapped in his own world of madness, self-accusation and worry about his missing partner has made her feel weak and helpless over the past few years. She has done so much for him, but never would he accept his sister's helping hand to pull him out of this deep pit. His own personal hell. Claire is glad to bring Chris something new today, something that hasn't to do with pseudo-psychological help. Because yesterday something has happened that has brought new light into her life. And new hope for Chris probably.

"There's something I wanted to talk with you about. An interesting case landed on my desk yesterday …"

"Claire", Chris warns his sister. "You know, I'm done with this bullshit!"

"I'm aware of that. But just hear me out. If you still want nothing to do with this after hearing my side of the story, I won't ever mention it again to you. I do strongly believe though that you'll be more than interested in what I have to say."

Chris warily eyes her for a few seconds, the steam of his cup of coffee quietly dancing in front of his eyes and characteristically curiosity wins. He gives her permission to go ahead.

"The case kind of reminds me of Leon's report from a few years ago."

"The one about the Las Plagas virus?"

"Exactly", she confirms. "The report I have received concerns the appearance of a new B.O.W. on the black market in South Africa."

"South Africa?", he repeats slowly and scrunches his eyebrows.

"The B.O.W. is described to be a mutated or more developed version of the Las Plagas virus. The dealing brought the virus into the hands of terrorists, who of course spread the virus, causing several outbreaks in small African villages. The development is surprisingly rapid and my guess that this is only the beginning."

"This sounds unnervingly similar to Racoon City", he says bitterly.

"That's what I'm scared of as well", Claire admits. "But that's not the only point that makes me want to tell you this. As described in Leon's report it was Ada Wong who got away with the Las Plagas sample. As far as I would say, she was on mission for someone to obtain it … and I think, you don't have to be a genius to figure out, what kind of person would be interested in a sample of such bioweapon."

They both throw a meaningful look at each other and for a moment Chris has a feeling like his whole body is going numb. None of them wants to say the name of the man out loud who has taken Jill with him. Chris tastes a bitterness in his mouth and a sick feeling in his stomach when thinking of this cruel non-human. And without being able to help it he sees it once more - Jill's arms wrapped around his upper body and her weight pushing them both down the black abyss.

"Chris", Claire's soft voice takes him back into reality. "This could lead us to her … to Jill! If it really is him who is behind all of this - which I highly believe, by the way - then we could finally get our revenge on this bastard. Please Chris, we need you."

"There's nothing I owe the BSAA", he immediately says, sharper than intended.

Claire lifts her eyebrows, unimpressed. "But?"

As usual his sister is able to tell that she has hit a soft spot. Chris sighs. He knows that even if he wouldn't be able to stop terrorists from taking over helpless cities, there's something inside of him that wants at least get revenge on Wesker. This voice has always been whispering to him inside his mind. Constantly reminding him of the traitor that has destroyed his life.

"But … I owe it to her", he concludes quietly and sets his eyes on the surface of the kitchen table.

"I knew, I could count on you", she says and shows him a relieved smile.

How many times did he have to listen to his sister's begging words to return to the BSAA in the past few years? Every time he brushed the subject off the table without even bothering about her pleads. But now that Claire brought up such a revelation, it's different. He can see something like hope coming up in his momentarily empty and meaningless life. Although pessimism tries to suppress these positive emotions. Chris has to put his hands down on his lap to prevent his sister from seeing how they suddenly shake. The muscles in his underarm work as he squeezes them into fists.

"Under one condition", he suddenly says. "You'll stay out of this. I don't want to put you in any unnecessary danger. Wesker's only goal in life is to destroy me and everyone I love. He has already done enough damage by taking Jill away from me, I don't think, I could take it to see you disappear under his hands as well. You have no idea what this man is truly capable of."

Claire snorts derisively. "I can take care of myself. I'm not a little baby anymore."

"Please, Claire", he urges and there's something in his gaze that completely captivates her. Something honest, deep and loving, something that completely strikes her. Whatever it was that has happened between him and Wesker, she should acquiesce to his words. This case is a personal burden to him. A burden she never had to carry and therefore will never fully understand.

"Alright", she quietly gives in and grabs for his hand, gently squeezing it. Her fingers feel small and fragile against his bigger hand and increases the protective instinct he has for his younger sister even more.

"You'll find her", she continues in a convinced tone. "I'm sure about that."

"When I'm there, I'll have nothing more to lose anyway", he answers. "I do trust your instincts, Claire. "

As their agreement is sealed Claire grabs for the croissants, she has brought with her and starts eating, while scanning Chris' outfit once more.

"I also have to make one condition though … " She says and innocently looks at him with her blue eyes. "It won't be happening in those clothes you're wearing."

Chris chuckles and blinks at her. "You do know that I can easily reach your hair by stretching my arm, sister."

* * *

**Kijuju, South Africa**

There's an almost unbearable heat difference of over thirty-five degrees Celsius compared to the temperatures in Antarctica and their bodies are soaked in sweat. But that's not only coming from the hot rays of sun entering the room between half-opened thick curtains. It's also not caused by the slightly higher humidity in this area.

There's the flapping of mosquito wings audible and the soft whispering of a tree that is standing in front of the window as the wind invisibly strokes through the oval-shaped, dark-green leaves. It's a peaceful idyll for the little insects and birds sitting in its strong branches.

The busy insects pause their buzzing for a few seconds as one of the exotic birds suddenly flies away with an indignant shrieking sound as a female voice, emitting her pleasure at the top of her lungs and a male one answering to it with a dirty swear word, disturbs it in its resting time.

Inside the ancient African mansion are Nebraska Jones and Albert Wesker spending their free time the best way possible.

He is lying on top of her, their sweat covered bodies are slamming against each other, creating a sticky sound and Nebraska thinks, she's going to have a meltdown any second, but not for any price in the world would she want him to stop. Her long bangs are stuck to her forehead, while she desperately tries to keep a steady breath. It probably makes her sound like she's in dying state. The insects in the meantime have picked up their endless, monotone song again without bothering about the lustful expressions coming out the building.

For a moment her back gets to experience the slightly less warm breeze that floats inside through the window as he scoops her up into a sitting position. Without parting her he allows her to domineer over their little game for a while. Letting out a satisfied sigh she leans her head towards his and lets the tip of her tongue gently run along his upper lip before taking it between her teeth for a brief moment. Only after sharing so many passionate kisses until her lips feel swollen, she picks up the pace again. He lets himself fall on his back, taking hold of her curvy hips.

He likes having her on top, watching her doing him whichever way she pleases. Those loving looks she threw at him from under black lashes, how her amber hues looked like fallen meteorites. The best part is seeing her come. How her breath stops for a few seconds before the moment of release fully captivates her. Those sweet moans coming out of her, how she weakly digs her nails into the skin of his chest before breaking down on top of him, her heavy breathing warming his skin. It's one of those little details while having sex with her, he could never experience enough the past days.

As he pushes her drained body on her back to get to the finishing point himself, she has the feeling to have forgotten where North, East, West and South are. Just any direction seems irrelevant in this delightful atmosphere. She tightly presses her thighs against him, the waves of her orgasm still ebbing, as he slowly enters her once more. When he comes, she softly groans in unison with him before placing one of her hands at the back of his skull to pull him down to her. Their mouths are locked in a deep kiss until she believes to suffocate and only inhaling through her nose can save her.

She doesn't know why, but since they have arrived here six days ago, Wesker can't get enough of her. Every single day he does her at least two times in the most creative ways possible. One time even on an elevator ride down. His mood could only be described as strangely thrilled and rather energetic. Although she is trying to be happy about him making her wildest fantasies come true, there's still the fire of jealousy burning inside of her. Since their first night here she can undeniably smell her on him. Jill's scent. The first time she detected it was when she felt his familiar weight drop down on the mattress next to her at three in the morning. Almost hesitantly he embraced her hip with his underarm and the palm of his hand rested on her belly. Normally she would have grabbed for his hand to hold it, to wish him welcome. But this night her hands rested next to her face on the pillow. But never has she dared him to ask, where he was until this ungodly hour of the night. Nor will she question him about the exact purpose of bringing this woman with them to Africa. If she likes it or not, Jill Valentine is now a part of Wesker's life. And inevitably hers.

Despite all those demeaning emotions inside of her, she will never pass the chance to sleep with him. It isn't an act of love to her, but almost one of necessity. She hopes that by offering him her body he will be reminded of who he truly belongs to. He has told her, he wants her and she has bowed to his demand to be his partner in crime, maybe even sacrificed a little part of her heart to him. That's a point, she doesn't want to think of too much though. They have shared a lot of intimacy since that fateful night on top of the roof and still doesn't she know who that person is, she is having so close to her. Often has she laid awake the past nights, her frontside leaned against his back and while her fingers followed the trail of muscles, one thought would occur in her mind. _'Who is in there?'_

On one hand she wishes to finally understand what is going on inside his mind, what emotions for her he is suppressing behind that cold façade - but on the other hand she's scared. Scared of him hurting her and breaking her heart, if he unleashed the true darkness that is lurking inside of him.

"Oh god, that was …", she says in post-orgasmic breathlessness and shuts her eyes.

"Too hot?", Wesker suggests smirking. With a single finger he wipes off a drop of sweat that has appeared between her breasts and then leans in to spread several kisses over the sensitive skin of her neck. "Shower. Now."

His tone commanding as ever, makes her sigh exhausted. "Can't we lie a bit?", she unsuccessfully tries to counter, still having trouble to control her breath.

"No", he says untouched. "I have important tasks that require my attendance this afternoon. I've told you it's not going to be my main priority to pleasure myself in bed with you while here. Still you shouldn't be complaining, I just took over one and a half hours of my precious time to share some privacy with you in here."

"Not enough", she replies quietly, eyes still closed.

"You're unbelievable", he mutters, ignoring her protesting squeak he takes her in his arms to carry her inside the bathroom.

They step into the shower enclosed with a floor-to-ceiling glass wall on one side and a marble wall on the other. She exhales in purest satisfaction and relief as the soothing and especially welcoming water pours down onto them, cooling their spirits. His hands are tracing over her body, spreading shower gel on it that smells just as wild and exotic as this place right here. She closes her eyes in enjoyment of the scent and wishes, he would take her again. Right on the spot.

"Why do you always have to leave after …?", she asks, starting the same procedure on his strong chest with her hands, just to slowly let them glide over the straight muscles of his abdomen. "And do you know that I'd rather see you topless all day?", she sighs dreamily.

"You know the reasons why, there's no need for me to spell them out loud for you. Also …"

Nebraska interrupts massaging his perfectly chiseled body as he suddenly grabs for her ass, giving it a squeeze. She inhales lustfully, momentarily loosing concentration of their dialogue.

"You're also obliged to an assignment this afternoon."

"An assignment?" Immediately her focus is back.

"Your training in hand-to-hand combat is starting."

She realizes that she has completely forgotten about Wesker pounding into her head how powerful she could become, if he trained her. But if he is attending other things …

"Well … I assume since it isn't you, who is training me, then who is?"

"Jill Valentine."

His answer includes the two words that she doesn't like coming from his lips - besides Excella Gionne's name of course. For a moment it's quiet between them, nothing but the soft falling of the water on the porcelain floor audible.

"Oh …", she simply manages to say.

"Nebraska, her abilities are more than impressive, trust me", he adds and lets his hands wander over the curve of her back, letting it rest in the small hollow above her behind.

"Okay", she gives in, enjoying the expertise of his manual work. "Do I have to wear this ridiculous Catwoman suit again?"

"It's not ridiculous", he purrs and gropes for her ass once more. "That's one of the reasons I like seeing you in it."

"Ah yes, is it now?", she answers huskily and lays her arms around his neck. "Tell me the others."

A wicked smile on his lips he leans down to place a brief kiss on the side of her mouth, while his hands take hold of her breasts. She can't hold in a little gasp, as she notices that his trained abs aren't the only hard thing pressed against her stomach. "Those two … and …"

The tingling sensation of his hands following the gentle curve of her ribcage down to her hips causes the blood between her legs to boil again. "All of you to be honest."

"I guess … I'll get dressed then", she concludes and frees herself from his embrace, before she would want him so much that nothing else would find place inside her mind in the afternoon. But this is not in Wesker's taste. He holds her back and starts spreading lustful kisses over her neck.

"What about you babbling about your precious time before?", she teases, while he picks her up and presses her back against the cool marble wall behind her.

"I guess, I can spare a few more minutes", he answers, before letting her slowly sink down, moving him inside of her at an unbearably agonizing pace. The soothing sound of the water only gets interrupted by their satisfied sighs and their mouths whispering each other's names into the steaming air.

* * *

They are standing on top of the ancient mansion. The sky, only a few minutes ago blue and flawless, is now grey clouded, pouring its rain down on the heated Earth. It's a welcome mood of the weather though and she wishes, she could undress herself to feel it right on her skin. Jill unfortunately isn't expecting that of her right now. The wetness whips against Nebraska's body and face, soaking the heavy fabric of the cloak that Jill has insisted on her to wear. A black long thing with a slit starting at the height of her navel down to her ankles. She wants her to get used to the combat gear, she's supposed to be wearing when on mission for Wesker.

But that's not everything. With clammy fingers did she have to take hold of an iron mask, shaped like the head of a wolf without a lower jaw. Its snout is sharp and pointy, its eyes evil and filled in with red lenses. The mask only covers half of the head and therefore reveals the carriers lips, chin and part of the jawline. Jill explained that their 'master' doesn't want them to be recognized by anyone, when working on the field. Nebraska had to stifle a laugh as she heard Jill describing Wesker as their 'master'. At least she belongs to no-one. But the look on Jill's face was dead serious. Even scary. Whatever this drug is that Wesker keeps injecting her with, she doesn't want a taste of it.

"Are you ready?" Jill's voice. She is standing opposite of her at a fair distance. The drops drumming on Nebraska's wolf-shaped and on Jill's Venetian bird tin masks are loud and no ordinary human would have been able to hear the affirmative words escaping Nebraska's mouth.

Jill has introduced her to a few self-defense movements, such as some simple kicks and fist combos and she expects her to make use of them. Nebraska's quick eye-sight might be able to follow Jill's inhumanly fast movements, but how to correctly make use of melee unfortunately doesn't run in her blood. For some reason Nebraska's energy level is annoyingly low and her limbs aren't working as powerful as she wishes they would. Inwardly she blames Wesker for having taken her again under the shower.

It's been two hours since their training has started and for the felt one hundredth time Jill throws her to the ground with a graceful jump in the air before sending the heel of her boot crashing into the soft flesh of her stomach. Nebraska, miles away from possessing Jill's agility, groans in pain and momentarily believes she has to vomit as she gets tackled on the hard stone surface. Jill, now astride of her, takes a powerful grip of her wrists and feels the veins wildly pulsating in them, the virus boiling inside her blood with a captivating madness.

"You need to control your anger, Nebraska", she advises unmoved, water dropping from her mask onto Nebraska's. "It's a clear and controlled mind that wins a fight and not blind fury."

The summer rain ever so softly falls on their bodies, one defeated, the other domineering. Jill lets go off her wrists and her before so rough hands reach for Nebraska's face to shove the hood off her head and undo the straps of the mask to reveal her stunned face. Nebraska blinks as the soothing raindrops start covering her face. Jill follows her example and frees herself from the iron prison as well.

For a moment Nebraska almost loses herself in her facial features, asking herself who the real woman trapped inside this body is. If she used to be loving, gentle, less harsh than now. She can even detect something that could almost be described as pity - at least Jill and her are kind of in the same situation. Infected against their will, trained to fulfill only one purpose. Out of nowhere she gets the wish to pour her heart out to her, wants to share with her, how she feels and ask her about her own story in return. If she is missed by someone at home. But then her eyes wander to the spot, where the red scarab device is located and it reminds her that every trace of her old self is erased out of Jill Valentine's body.

"Our master …", Jill suddenly says, dragging her out of her thoughts. "He has told me something about you. About a special kinetic power that you seem to be possessing. Why didn't you make use of it, when fighting against me?"

"I don't know, how it works, okay?", she admits ashamed. "The only time it happened was when …"

Bitterly she thinks back to Excella's provocative words back in Wesker's quarters.

"When I was very, very offended", she finishes her sentence, only muttering the words and then softly groans. "Would you care to get off me now?"

"Oh …" Jill chuckles and as she gets up, she offers Nebraska a hand. Thankfully she grabs for it. Her body feels beaten and bruised, but she tries to show no sign of it as she slowly prepares for her descent off the roof. But Jill's voice holds her back.

"To be honest, I don't see the point of him hiring you for any field work. You're not in control of your body or any of your abilities … it's going to be a lot of work to even call you descent" Jill's cold, blue eyes transfix her, almost apologizing. "No offense."

Nebraska shows her a weak smile, with which she tries to hide the fact that Jill just hit a soft spot. Reading between the lines, she's sure to hear nothing in Jill's words but the suggestion to stay Wesker's bed companion. According to everyone around here, that's all she seems to be useful for anyway.

"None taken", she quietly answers in return. "I'm heading back inside. Go back to your room, Jill."

As she steps down the stairs inside, her amber eyes are glowing with anger and unnoticeable to her a small part of a window on the left-handed wall quietly cracks like an egg. The virus' little aftertaste.

* * *

Still fuming about the way Jill dared to talk to her, Nebraska bumps into Wesker in the corridor. He can immediately tell by the look on her face that something is wrong, but right now he doesn't bother too much about the little problems that constantly seem to be nagging on her mind.

"Excellent, you're done as I can tell. I was just on my way to get you. Come with me."

"Oh yes, and how we are done", she hisses.

"What happened?", he asks unimpressed. "Did she hurt you?"

"No, it's just …" Thinking of Jill's words and combining it with his insatiable lust for her the past few days, she stays on the same spot, not moving at all. "I'm not in for a quickie, Wesker", she sulks annoyed.

"It's not always about sex", he huffs in the same peeved tone. "Come with me or I'll make you. I have no problem with that either."

The virus, now fully in possession of her, makes her notice the seductive smell of Wesker's body and her eyes clearly see his perfect muscles flexing under the tight black shirt he's wearing, as she follows behind him. It's hard to force the virus back, when she's in a mood like that and it's becoming an impossibility as she can see, who Wesker has brought her to.

Sitting on a chair, legs crossed and dressed in a tight, white dress sits Excella Gionne. Derisively smiling at her, she gets up, the hem of her garment sliding up to reveal her bare thighs.

"Welcome to Africa", she says in fake niceness, while depreciatively glancing over Nebraska's current appearance. Her cheeks are covered in dirt, her hair damp and stuck to her skull, the cloak ripped at one place. "It's a pleasure seeing you again."

"What's the matter?", she straightly asks, not bothering about greeting the Italian woman.

Wesker closes the door behind them. "We need you in order to prepare the first samples of Uroboros."

Nebraska lifts her eyebrows. „You seriously named the virus Uroboros? What kind of a stupid name is that?"

"One that will echo over the world", he answers unimpressed and is pleased to see how Nebraska's derisive smile disappears. „You were the one, who has created it and therefore I would like you to assist Excella in making the necessary preparations. Tomorrow I'll send Jill to the closest village."

"And what is she supposed to do there with it?", Nebraska asks confused. "Sell it? "

Excella purrs a laugh. „No, sweetheart. It will be spread. Globally."

* * *

The black cloaked woman is unwillingly following the curvy silhouette of the brunette. The latter is carrying a metallic suitcase, secured with several locks. There's a chemical smell escaping the almost invisible crack along it. Excella's human nose doesn't take any note of that, but Nebraska with her sharpened senses can detect it. Her virus reacts to it like a wild ocean to a storm. It unnerves her, when it's in a state like that and she tries hard to keep it as tamed as possible. After a minute they reach a laboratory. Excella carefully places the suitcase on a table in the centre of it.

"Let me do this", Nebraska says after she has freed herself from the heavy cloak and carelessly threw it in the corner, where it neatly landed on a chair. The brunette unlocks the suitcase and grabs for a syringe.

"You wish_", _she replies in her Italian accent. "Just because you little whore spread your legs for Wesker doesn't mean you're anything special, _comprendre?"_

The sudden urge to rip Excella's throat out is making the palms of her hands tingle, but she knows that she has to behave. At least this little bitch is of some value to Wesker. He has made it clear enough before. That little scene still causes her to bristle. Just as Nebraska was about to follow Excella, Wesker shut the door right in front of her face and pushed her cloaked frame against it. Ice-cold and demanding as always he asked her to behave in Excella's presence. If she wanted it or not, she had to give in to his demand.

"Fine." Her jaw works in anger and her fingers curl themselves into a fist. "But don't fuck it up."

To her despise Excella isn't done yet. "You know that you're nothing but a plaything to Albert, don't you?", she says with a pitiful tone and carefully fills the first syringe with the dark fluid.

Nebraska raises her eyebrows as she distastefully notices Excella using Wesker's first name. She has never done it nor will she ever address him the same way. Calling him by his last name has become a habit and since she still has hateful feelings against him from time to time, she has to admit that she probably couldn't bring up the decency to call him 'Albert'. Not even if she pays attention to the fact that they have slept with each other.

"He even dresses you the way he pleases", Excella continues and throws a depreciatory glance down Nebraska's black, tight battle suit.

"At least my wardrobe doesn't look like it would belong to a cheap stripper …", Nebraska huffs in return and crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Unlike yours."

"We're feisty, aren't we? Enjoy it as long as you can", Excella says mocking. "As soon as Wesker and I share the same power, he will throw you to the garbage, where you belong to."

There's heat rushing into Nebraska's cheeks and the familiar head ache taking over her skull as the virus tries to send that strange energy through her body and for a moment she has to focus hard to not let it happen. If she destroys the inventory Wesker would kill her for sure. And there's enough glass to be broken in this room. What she allows herself to do though, is dig her fingers into Excella's always so ridiculously neat bun to rudely yank her head backwards.

"Listen, you little attention-seeking skank, I do not respond well to carelessly expressed insults", she growls into her ear, her amber eyes intensely glowing. "Forgotten about the incident in America? Don't underestimate what I'm capable of."

To her surprise Excella expresses a hearty laugh, before sending a powerful kick backwards. The heel of her white shoe crashes right against the muscle of Nebraska's upper thigh, which causes her to stumble a few steps backwards.

"Don't underestimate what I'm capable of either", she purrs in return.

Excella doesn't know that with that single assault, she has unleashed the beast inside of Nebraska. With her clear eye sight, her hues rapidly changing from a brownish color to bright amber, she registers Excella, seeing the nervously pumping artery on the side of her neck - in her mind she already measures the distance she would have to jump to land right next to her and rip it open with her bare teeth, tearing through flesh and sinews. With a blood-bathed smile she would let her body drop to the floor, where it would bleed out like a fountain. But somehow she manages to decrease the incredible wildfire burning inside of her - for him. For Wesker. Through the fog of madness it was his voice, she has heard. She briefly closes her eyes and inhales, realizing that he's the only thing that keeps her sane. He's like gravity that prevents her from joining the other side, where the true monsters are residing.

"You know, Excella", she says, listening to her own voice like it would belong to a stranger, her virus still growling inside of her like a hellhound. "Without me developing what you have just put into syringes, you would still be at stage zero with your damn project Uroboros." As she opens her eyes, Excella is surprised to see that the brightness has fainted and showing her a cold smile, Nebraska takes a few steps towards Excella's provocative figure. "I'm more than just a whore, who spreads her legs, dear. I'm probably smarter than all of you put together. Although, I have to admit ..." Slowly Nebraska shoves half of her index finger inside her mouth, sucking at it for a second before slowly retracting it. "Having Wesker's cock inside of me is quite the pleasure as well."

With a gaze that is soaked with fake pity and cold, bland hate she keeps on staring at Excella's made-up face. "I get to fuck him, while you probably stand in front of your oversized wardrobe, trying to figure out, which dress he would like to see you in the most. I get to lay in his arms and kiss him, while you stand in front of your make-up box, pondering which color of lipstick would make him want to do the same with you. Face it, Excella. You're the one, who is going to land in the garbage."

* * *

Restlessly her fingers are drumming against the railing of the stone balcony she's standing upon. The stone surface is heated up from the merciless African sun beating down on it. The rain has yielded and the cloudless sky is slowly turning lilac with the setting afternoon sun. The green roof of the forest below is still impregnating the air with the damp smell of summer rain. But she doesn't bother about the warmth that is almost burning the palm of her hands, there's something inside of her that's much hotter than everything around here. Anger.

The view from up here is beautiful. The ancient mansion is built on top of a tree covered hill high above the coast of South Africa. She tries to regain her inner balance by staring down to the endless surface of the Southern Ocean. At the moment it's looking smooth and dark blue as the afternoon tends to be windless. There are several black and white dots circling in the sky above it. Birds. But not even the beauty of nature is able to distract her. All she can do is recall all the nasty words that Excella and her have thrown against each others heads this afternoon.

Anxiously awaiting Wesker's return, she paces along all of the railings length, the hem of the long, pale blue silk dress she's wearing, quietly moving in the wind like little waves and her hair dancing like the furious flame that is burning within her. She knows, that Excella went and told him about the attack. She's the kind of woman, who would do anything to bring her in trouble and most of all sabotage her relationship with him. It's easy to tell that all Excella wishes for is to get him out of his clothes and take him into her bed. That thought causes her grind her teeth and dig her nails into the hard stone. She murmurs a curse word and quickly turns around as she can hear the familiar sound of Wesker's boots stepping out on the balcony behind her.

As expected he looks at her coolly and she wonders, how much suppressed anger there is in those eyes behind the sunglasses. She swallows as he closes the distance between them and her breath hitches as he grabs for her upper arms.

„There's one thing I asked from you", he growls deeply and ungently squeezes her flesh. „What was it?" As she doesn't react, he briefly shakes her. "Are you listening? What have I said?"

"Behave in Excella's presence", she murmurs and then quietly whimpers. "You're hurting me, Wesker." Her hair falls in front of her face as she turns it away to hide the ashamed expression on it. Her cheeks are burning.

"Behave in Excella's presence", Wesker repeats with hard to control ire, but nonetheless his grip isn't as harsh anymore. "Don't you fucking see it, woman? Without her and her company the project won't ever get the chance to be realized. So, leave your dirty language behind or I swear, I'll rip your tongue out with my teeth. You can be glad I could fix things with her this time."

"Fix things with her? How?" Nebraska narrows her eyes at him and doesn't even bother about suppressing the furiousness boiling up inside of her. "I swear, if you slept with this bitch I'll do the same and even more gruesome things to you."

She fumes as Wesker dares to shortly laugh at that. "Tame the green-eyed devil, Nebraska, it's getting on my nerves", he answers calmly, but as his eyes briefly illuminate, she can tell how upset he really is. "I don't want you jeopardizing everything I have built up until now just because you bitches don't get along with each other!"

"Fuck you, Wesker!", she spits and pushes her knee in his leg. Surprised he lets her go and watches dumbfounded as she tries to rush off the balcony. She doesn't get far though - this is Wesker she has to deal with right here. And he won't let her leave until he's done. Quickly he wraps one of his muscular arms around her waist and pulls her back, pressing her against his chest. As she tries to kick him once more, he lifts her into the air. Unimpressed he pushes her backside against his frontside and lets her struggle for a while until she finally gives in. Her body is becoming feeble and as a result the pressure of his underarm against her belly loosens.

"We have understood each other, haven't we?", he simply growls into her ear.

"Let me go, Wesker", she shouts humiliated. "I'm fed up with this bullshit!"

"What bullshit?", he asks, placing his fingers on her cheek so he can force her head in his direction.

"You! And all those other women! Jill … Excella … and who knows, who else is claiming your attention. I don't have the strength inside of me to keep up with all of them and most of all there's no energy left inside me to smile, while they do nothing but insult me and laugh about me behind my back. Why don't you just rub it in too, Wesker? I'm worth nothing more but to be the little slut that you like to fuck!"

A deep inhale that could almost be described as a sob, shivers through Nebraska's chest and she shoves his arm away from under her breasts to rush over to the railing once more. Focusing on not bursting out in tears she grabs the stone surface of it, using it as a beam of support. Wesker, who heard the wounded pride in her voice, exhales, almost tired, as he is more than fed up with this subject. Jealousy. Taking off his sunglasses he joins her side. She can feel his burning gaze on her skin and almost intimidated she lowers her gaze to the floor. Wesker notices the slight lilac color of her lids in the fading light of the afternoon, showing how exhausted she is, showing how less sleep she is getting since they are here. This is when it strikes him, the realization how much of a fight it is for her to feel so strong for someone that you would kill for them.

"Stop describing what there is between us with such degrading words. You do know that you mean a lot more to me than just that", he suddenly says calmly. "If you think there are so many women, I pay attention to then why is it that you are the one, who I sleep in bed and wake up with every morning? "

There's no need to answer this question. A soft look on her face she returns her gaze to meet his crimson one. There's a question in his eyes, like he is trying to read the emotions hiding behind her amber hues. But all he can see now are tears shimmering on their golden surface.

„Jill is nothing more to me but pawn and I can't deny that I am aware of Excella's amorous feelings towards me. But I can assure you, this does not base on mutuality."

"It won't happen again", she says quietly and wipes over her eyes with the back of her hands as the unwanted tears threaten to blur her vision. "I'll apologize to her."

"No, that won't be a necessity. But I take you by your word that it won't happen again. And now stop that damn crying. It's not usual for you to show weakness."

A slight smile plays on her lips as she notices the almost humorous tone in his voice. Accepting his embrace, she lets him hold her close to his body and shuts her eyes pleasurably as he places a gentle kiss on top of her head. This one gesture seals that he cares about more than just the bodily union they share. The virus fills her insides with unexpected warmth and most of all unexpected love. It holds her heart in a tight grip and hurts so much that she has to swallow. Once more she has forgiven him.

"Why don't you lie down for a bit?", he suggests. "The lack of sleep you are getting is more than visible on your face and it worries me. It is no good for your body. Go now, I'll be with you as soon as I can."

"Don't take too long", she says and then walks towards the mansion's bedroom. "And Wesker … don't forget that I'm not like Jill or Excella. I can't always be the creature, you wish me to be."


End file.
